#not just cause it (FINALLY!!!!!) gave us a solavellan ending

[dreadcubic]

I've been a fan of these games since about 2014 when I got my first Xbox 360. I still remember how horrible my first ever run of Dragon Age: Origins was because I (like a fucking idiot lol) decided not to switch out my gear for better gear. lets just say the final battle was MISERABLE... but I fell in love with the story, and have been replaying the Dragon Age games ever since.

I remember angrily grumbling over the fact that my favorite Turian wasn't romanceable, and settling for Kadan. Don't get me wrong, I ADORE Kadan... but the unholy screech of joy that erupted from me when I played Mass Effect 2 and realized that I could smooch the worlds best Turian?

The memories that the Bioware games have given me over the years are something I will cherish for years to come. The moments in which these works of art have brought me to tears will forever be seared into my memory, never to escape.

At this point, you will have to pry the Bioware fandom from my dead cold hands :'] These are games that I will come back to for years to come because of the characters, the stories, and the nostalgia. I will continue to draw lil pictures of my favorite characters and my OCs, and write little drabbles / long winded fics because I love these universes to bits.

Reblog if you have no intention of leaving the Bioware fandom anytime soon

With the release of the final Dragon Age Inquisition DLC and Andromeda a long way off, interest will decline of course. But if you’re in this for the long haul, stick this on your blog.

[ariannaserissa]

WIP Wednesday

Everyone else: working on Veilguard and post-Veilguard fics

Me: I'm going to write a story set at the end of Trespasser, which I'm sure tons of other people have already done. 🤗 What can I say, I didn't do a Solavellan playthrough of Inquisition until last summer.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kaliska stared down at what remained of her left arm. The absence of pain after it had been so excruciating took her breath away. Although that might not be the only reason she was having a hard time catching her breath. Seeing Solas again and hearing the truth of who he was had been enough of a shock before he had removed her arm, taking the Anchor with him and disappearing.

Dimly, she heard running steps coming toward her. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at the new arrivals, but even the concern that they were more enemies coming to attack her wasn’t enough to cause alarm. She would be doomed if that was the case, too numbed and dazed to defend herself.

Thankfully, it was Dorian, The Iron Bull, and Varric coming towards her. The three of them slowed down as they drew near, their eyes widening as they took her in: armless and kneeling on the ground, surrounded by frighteningly realistic-looking statues.

Dorian was the one to break the silence. “Sweet Maker, Kaliska, your arm – ”

“It doesn’t hurt,” she said, gripping her staff with her remaining hand to finally get to her feet. She wobbled a bit once she was standing, unbalanced now that her left forearm was gone and shaky from the fighting, the fading memory of pain, and from all that had been revealed to her at last.

The Iron Bull seemed to appear at her side within a blink. He gently placed a huge hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him and gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile, but his brow was furrowed and his single eye serious as he studied her.

“She’s in shock,” he said. “Pretty common after someone loses a limb, although there’s usually a lot more blood than this when that happens.”

“What did happen?” Varric asked. He was also standing near Kaliska and looking at what remained of her left arm, but he hadn’t yet dared to touch it. Neither had she. She was a little worried that if she did, it might start to hurt again. Perhaps the amputation was just an illusion and the Anchor was still there, killing her. “The Viddasala’s turned to stone. Was Chuckles here?”

There was a tinge of madness in the laughter Kaliska bit back. Varric had nicknamed an elven god Chuckles. She had kissed one of the gods of her people. She was still in love with him even now, after finally learning the truth all this time later.

Her suspicions had grown as they learned more about the Qunari plot and the ancient elves. The elf in the mural who was removing the vallaslin of the others had looked so much like Solas that she had stopped in her tracks at the sight of it. But it was the final note about the portrait of Fen’harel that had confirmed it for her.

She had not told the others. It had seemed so impossible that she hadn’t wanted to say anything until she could confront Solas with the knowledge herself. And none of her companions were Dalish. Perhaps the revelation would not shake them as much as it had shaken her.

“Stormheart?” Varric asked. His expression was concerned and Kaliska realized she had taken too long to answer him.

“Yes, Solas was here,” she said. “He took the Anchor and my arm with it.”

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

She nodded. “A great deal more. But I don’t want to discuss it here. Everyone will need to hear this. Let’s get back to Halamshiral.”

The enormous eluvian Solas had stepped through – he had left her again, would his departures always break her heart to pieces? – lay dark and dormant now. They would not be able to use it even if it led where they wanted to go. Still, Kaliska could not help but touch the glass that reflected nothing. If she knew the way to open the eluvian, she would go after him right now.

And do what? Stop him, certainly. He had made it clear that his plan to bring down the Veil would end all life as Thedas currently knew it. She could not let him go through with it. There had to be another way, a safe way. But if she were unable to convince him to change his mind, would she have the strength to kill him? She did not know.

No one spoke as they made their way back through the eluvians. Kaliska was grateful that the others did not ask her for information, even though they had to be full of questions. There was more than enough to occupy her own thoughts.

[fenharel-babe]

I'm back in my Solavellan feelings and want to talk about my lavellan and Solas. I saw these prompts and decided to post that now. I'm going to answer each one (other than the nsfw ones) and here we go. Putting it under a keep reading just in case no one cares lol.

For the Fluff:

1. What are things they both find funny?

Solas and Bloom both love when Cassandra and Varric banter. They just find it hilarious because Cassandra is nice at some points but she can be angry while being funny. They just find both of them too funny.

2. If they could each describe each other in one sentence, what would it be?

Solas describe Bloom as, "A complicated woman," and Bloom describes Solas as, "A complicated man." They're both complicated on the surface and they just stick to that description. But if people ask for what do they like about each other, then OH BOY!!! They could go on a rant.

3. If they complimented each other, what would they say?

Solas would compliment Bloom by saying how she always notices the good in people. She always tries to make people feel better, help them heal, and just help people in general. She cares for people and the way she sees the good in people, and it makes him love her.

Bloom would compliment Solas by saying she loves hearing him ramble and how adorable it is. Solas rambles and we ALL know it. He'll talk about the fade or magic for hours and Bloom loves to hear all of it and she finds his passion adorable.

4. What would be their ship name?

Blas because it's close to blast and Bloom will blast you away if you ever hurt her family. It has Bl from Bloom and as from Solas lol.

5. What activities do they enjoy together?

Hmmm...they enjoy a lot of things together. I guess the one thing they could mainly enjoy together is reading. They both like to read and find it fun. But the part they both enjoy the best is reading to each other. Like Lavellan is resting her head in Solas's lap and he's reading whatever to her or Solas is resting his head in her lap and she's reading to him. It's comfortable and that's an activity they like.

Another one is taking naps together.

6. What is/are their love language(s)?

Physical attention. I believe Solas does like it when he gets physical attention. He's like...however old and he's definitely touch starved, but only for the person he loves: Bloom. They both like getting physical attention and like holding hands, kissing, hugging, nsfw things, and they do like words. They love being told "I love you" from the other and it brings them so much comfort. They love it when they comfort each other.

7. Write a ~300 word love scene for them.

Solas was looking at Bloom again. She was resting on the couch in the Rotunda, few pieces of hair falling in front of her face, and was slightly snoring. He worked in the Rotunda all the time and she would visit him all the time. Even before they confessed to each other. They love being together, so if she was ever stressed, she would come here and check on him. He would accept the attention and he would give her as much comfort as she needed. This time, she came because she had a bad dream. She was being chased by demons and was witnessing Solas's death in the future that Alexius tried to make. He knew she suffered from the mere memory, so he would never shun her away. He would do whatever she wanted and this time she just wanted to be in the same room with him.

She groaned in her sleep and it made him worry. He marked the page he was on in his book and went over to her. He knelt in front of her and pulled the pieces of hair back behind her ear. She moved slightly and it made him freeze, but she didn't move again and he was relieved. He looked at her closer now and he got to see the sight he loved. He loved to see her at peace, something he rarely got to see, and when she slept he got to see it. It made him feel happy and he just staring at her made him feel blessed. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently. He hoped she wouldn't wake, but she did.

She opened her eyes and smiled when she saw him. "Hi, vhenan."

Solas blushed at that word and decided to kiss her again to hide it.

8. What were their first impressions of each other?

Bloom found Solas as interesting and she really wanted to know more about him.

Solas found her as rude and distant. Only to realize she's just anxious and actually loves almost everyone.

For the Angst:

9. Have they made each other cry?

Have you seen the ending of Trespasser??? YES!! They have. They never used their words to hurt each other and make them cry, but their actions have. Solas leaving made Bloom cry, Bloom having a dream of Solas being dead made her cry, and seeing him again in Trespasser made her cry.

Now, Solas cried a lot. He hides it, but he does cry a lot. He cares for Bloom a lot, more than he thought he would, so seeing her hurt? It makes him upset. One time, she was knocked out for quite awhile because she used a lot of her energy, and Solas was so concerned and he cried. So yes they cry about each other a lot.

10. Write a ~300 word argument scene for them.

I can't exactly do this one because they rarely argue :(.

11. What causes them to fight?

Umm...the only thing that could make them fight would be Solas telling Bloom to do something she doesn't believe in. Solas telling her that she's too kind hearted and almost implying she's weak. That would really hurt her and she would argue. It would be a short argument because she would leave since she doesn't want to argue. They would both come together soon and they'll explain their side and almost always feel better.

12. Do they have differing political opinions?

Yeah. I'm not good with the politics in like DA, but it's obvious they do bc he's Solas and she doesn't know the things he does, so they do have different opinions. It's why they avoid that topic lol.

13. Name something they would never do for the other person.

Bloom could never let him destroy the world. Like she would never help him. Does she love him with her entire soul? Yes. But she can't destroy the world.

Solas would never just forget his past for her. You can take this as in he has to destroy the world or just that he can't stop the mission of at least sharing the word of his people. He just can't forget his past.

14. What would be a dealbreaker?

Destroying the world is a deal breaker for Bloom lol. Or just anything regarding to hurting people for the fun of it.

Deal breaker for Solas would have to be her hating on his old life. Like?? Excuse me?? Bloom would never but still. If he had someone do that then he'd have to leave them.

15. What are traits they dislike in one another?

Bloom doesn't like the way Solas is constantly not looking at other peoples POV. He just thinks about his past and sometimes needs to be reminded not everyone is like him and he needs to think about it like them.

Solas doesn't like the way Bloom is always sacrificing herself.

16. If they broke up, what would be their opinions of each other?

They would still love each other. They have broken up like twice already now. First in DAI and then again in Trespasser (not rlly but ya get it?? He left her once and then he did it again lol). They would still love each other and wouldn't move on. They would still believe that they are a good person (Even if Bloom's opinion of that good person is in doubt) and almost have the same opinions.

For the Depth:

17. What senses (sights, smells, feelings, etc). remind them of each other?

Bloom is reminded of him when she sees green clothes. She's reminded of his clothes he would wear, how she would take them off in the heat of the moment, and how she would sometimes sleep in them. And!! Seeing wolves or animals would sometimes remind her of him. He liked animals and talked about them and since he has a jawbone, if she saw a wolf she'd immediately think about him. The smell of the woods would remind her of him.

Solas is reminded of her when he sees anything blue or ginger. Blue was her favorite color and she almost always wore blue clothes, and her hair was ginger. Seeing anything ginger would remind him of her, her hair, and how he would run his fingers through it when she was stressed or sad.

18. What would be their love motto?

"To love is to understand each other, trust each other, and want to protect each other."

19. If they could each write a single line in their marriage vows, what would they be?

Bloom: "You make my fire brighter and make me feel like I can do the impossible."

Solas: "You understand me and see things in me I can't see myself."

20. What is a promise they have made to each other?

To love forever. Solas knew he wouldn't love anyone like he loves her and she knew she wouldn't love anyone the way she loves him, so they made a promise.

Away from their love, it's a promise to always be true to each other...even though that promise is very sad...because you know-

21. How have they changed each other for the better/for the worse?

I think they've both changed for the better. Bloom slowly learns she can't sacrifice herself and that it's okay to love someone no matter what. Solas learns that everyone is suffering in their own way, how precious people are, and how to love again.

22. If their lives were what was originally intended at birth, would they have still fallen in love?

Umm...Bloom was meant to be a hunter and stay in a clan, so I doubt they would have met. BUT if they ever did, they most likely still would have fallen in love. Bloom was still the same no matter what. He probably would adore her more because she can fight physically and also use her magic.

23. Write a ~300 scene between them with no dialogue, only body language.

They were in her bedroom, getting undressed for bed, and he finally wrapped his arms around her. Bloom felt relief when Solas wrapped his arms around her. She had been through a stressful day, so to feel his arms around her, it made her feel safe. The warmth he radiated brought her peace, and then the coolness he gave her made her feel even better. Anything involving him made her feel loved, so to just feel him made her happy.

Uhhh....I can't write just body language. I need to write dialogue so my bad. Take 79 or 80 words lol.

24. What is something they have each had to forgive the other for?

Bloom has to forgive him for trying to destroy the world lol.

Solas doesn't really have anything to forgive her for. She's always been careful around him, not overstepping boundaries, and they rarely fought. He just feels the need to forgive himself and understand why she forgives him.

Anyways yeah take this!! I might do more prompts like this. I just love them so much. I might do Cullen and Elle and Julian and Cassandra!! And there's not much proofreading so :))).

[maythedreadwolfbreakyou]

What Dreams May Come

A Solavellan Story

     Waking each morning was no longer the pleasure it had been in Skyhold. There was always that moment when she felt whole again, refreshed by the visions of the night before. But as they gave way to daylight, that happiness evaporated with their memory like a summer rain from the dry earth. Leaving only a vague memory of feeling hope, wrapped within a sharp edge that made it difficult to reach.

     It had been strange to see that towering monolith, once a bustling citadel of trade, spies, and military, now stand cold and silent like a discarded old bone in the soil. Yet as Ghilina walked the winding mountain path away from Skyhold, the place she had strangely come to call home, the mountains closed like theater curtains at the end of a play. 

No, she thought, her jaw set with determination, this is not the end. This is only an intermission. 

     It had been many months since that day, and if losing an arm hadn't been an odd enough experience to live with, leaving Skyhold felt like losing the ground from underneath her feet. But the Dalish were nothing, if not adaptable, and Ghilina took pride in being especially so. She had her father and his teachings to thank for that; moving from place to place and never lingering for long took little effort. She was, after all, Dalish. It was the constant watching of her surroundings while avoiding the prying eyes around her that proved to require more. 

     The days seemed to stretch far longer than they had before. The Inquisition was now a shadow of it's former glory, an echo, and operating what remained of it's forces with such necessary secrecy took more getting used to than she had first thought it would. 

     Even now she lay upon a bed within a rented room for the evening, waiting for contact from one of Leliana's agents, staring up at the tattered wood ceiling from the comfort of a warm and plush feather bed. 

     The countryside just West of Nevarra was lovely. Not somewhere she would choose to linger had she the choice, but it was lovely.

     Somewhere beyond her open window, she heard crickets sing with joy as the aroma of the night wafted in on the cool evening breeze, bringing with it the promise if rain. A hush as a torrent of wind rushed through the gusty trees.

     As much as Ghilina disliked being left with her own thoughts on nights such as this, there was also a sense of peace she enjoyed. Along with the hope for a better tomorrow. 

     Her thoughts began to slow with the progression of the night like the flow of a lazy river. Each one danced as the ribbons from a kite string reaching toward the sky, inviting the dreams that would inevitably take her. 

     Ghilina's dreams always took her to a happier future, the sort she secretly hoped for, yet tucked away into the darkest recesses of her heart. They were bittersweet wishes, for to wish for them earnestly would invite further heartbreak.

     It began as it often did, with the colors of a thousand ribbons and streamers decorating the town square of Wycome. They billowed and swayed on the unseen breeze as people danced and laughed all around her in celebration. 

     Ghilina looked down and found herself dressed in a simplistic white gown, her arms and shoulders exposed.

That was when she noticed that her left hand and the part of her arm that had been consumed by the anchor was no longer missing. It had returned, the same as it had been before the mark, and beautiful bracelets of gold and gems decorated her wrist. Interwoven with her dark hair were the small flowers of Prophet's Laurel.

     Standing before her, taking her hands gently in his, stood the man to whom her heart belonged. 

     Solas, down-turned gray eyes staring so lovingly into her own, wore a red and gold vest with a tunic beneath. It's billowing sleeves tapered at the wrist by leather wrap cuffs, and a white wolf's pelt draped over one shoulder. 

     "You look beautiful," Solas whispered admiringly. 

     Ghilina looked down with a shy smile, "You as well."

Then came someone's familiar dulcet tones, she immediately turned to look in their direction, "are you ready, da'len?"

     Standing there, with a kind and knowing smile, was Keeper Istimaethoriel. She looked beautiful with her graying hair pleated and braided elegantly, pulled back into a neat bun to display her intricate Vallaslin. She was the only one in her entire clan left that she truly thought of as family. To see her again here, Ghilina felt happy tears bud at the corners of her eyes.

     "She can't marry him!" A sudden voice protested angrily. 

Ghilina turned to the gathering crowd, her brows knotting as she stepped into Solas's arms, but she could not find the voice's source among them.

"That's the dread wolf! He tried to kill us all!"

Other faceless voices spoke up in agreement with the first.

Ghilina looked up into those gray eyes she loved so much, only for sadness and regret to look back. The same look Solas had given her that night in the glen.

"But she loves him!"

"He's a trickster god of many guises, he must have tricked her too!"

Chaos erupted all around them as more raucous voices rose with their own protests, the crowd beginning to surround them. All around her were angry and fearful faces. They were growing far too loud, and to block them out, Ghilina placed her hands flat over her ears. 

     In her fear, she looked again to Solas for some form of guidance. Solas, his eyes never faltering from her, slowly backed away and disappeared into the crowd. 

     The voices around her reached their crescendo, sounding more akin to a raging river. Then she realized the shouting and screaming she heard was no longer the voices, it was a torrential wind sweeping all around her like a vortex. It whipped her hair this way and that. Ghilina pressed her hands more firmly against her ears and tightly shut her eyes. 

     When the wind died, and she dared open her eyes again, she was suddenly surrounded by the stone infrastructure of Kirkwall's Hightown. 

     The sun glared down on her from its zenith in the vacant sky, an oppressive presence with it's unyielding summer heat. What trees she saw around her held drooping, flaccid leaves like wilted lettuce. Even the air was dry, not the usual humid warmth that came with living so close to the sea. The stones themselves looked bleached by the sun. The smell of baking pastries and fine perfumes wafted into the air, mingling with an occasional whiff of odor from the sewers far below.

    In spite of it all, the city was bustling with activity. Citizens swarmed merchant stalls, as others shouted for the attention of potential customers. Nobles strutted like peacocks through the streets, as others hurried to their work. The blending of voices echoing off stone walls was a welcome white noise.

     Suddenly a child's voice rose above the din, "Mummae!"

Ghilina whirled at the sound, catching the bobbing black head of a beaming young elven girl with gray eyes running toward her. Behind her strode the man she knew to be the girl's father: Solas. 

     In his arms was a small elven toddler, the same features as his sister, watching the scene before him serenely.

     Solas watched his daughter barrel into her mother for a hug, a gentle smile playing upon his lips As the corners of his eyes crinkled.

"Oh!" Ghilina exclaimed, looking down into the still-smiling face of this little girl who resembled her so strongly it made her heart ache.

"Mummae, I'm almost as tall as Uncle Varric!"

     Ghilina looked into the face of the child before her and rested a hand on her cheek. She tried to smile, but the muscles of her chin would not obey. They trembled as she felt the sting of unshed tears.

     Her knees buckled, catching her upon the stone. Her arms hastily wrapped around her small daughter and pulled her close, burying her face in the child's hair. The girl's hands lifted jerkily, tentatively returning the embrace. 

When she spoke, her small voice was laced with worry, "Mummae, what is wrong?"

The tears burst forth from her like a charging Druffalo before she could stop it, and suddenly the dam holding them back was shattered. The sounds that tore from her sounded like the wails of a distressed child, raw from the inside. 

     Her daughter suddenly began to fade from her arms until she disappeared, her worried and sad expression never leaving her eyes. Ghilina blinked back tears and looked up at Solas, finding only that he too, along with their son, was fading from existence. Hurrying to her feet, she ran to them, reaching for them too late. 

     All around her, the people faded away one by one until none remained. The scenery around her stilled, and the sky shifted, until everything was like looking through a filter of green. It was no longer the sweltering heat, nor the strange scents, of Kirkwall. This was the fade in it's more base form. She had been here too many times already in the flesh not to recognize it now, even as a dreamer. 

     A shimmer of mist, diffuse, lingered before her as if the air itself was being warped and twisted. 

     Finally, it congealed into form, "I did not mean to cause you pain."

Before her floated the translucent humanoid form of a spirit, it's voice silvery and soft-spoken, like an ethereal child speaking in a large room. 

Ghilina exhaled a breath she did not know she had been holding. 

"What manner of spirit are you?" She asked.

"I am what perches upon the soul to sing the wordless song, a driving motivation for change. I am the glimmer of light in a dark ocean of Despair. I am Hope."

She blinked, "Hope?"

"Yes, you have much in your heart. For the return of a lover, of a future together, of a better world for you both. Full of happiness, surrounded by those you love. But it is so very tangled amidst the thorns of your fears and worry, I cannot nurture it so long as you cleave to them so desperately." 

"How can I shed fear and worry when so many things could go wrong?" Ghilina demanded, "Even if I succeeded in changing the mind of Fen'harel, and returning Solas to my side, there is still so much that could go wrong."

"Then you would face it together. You are not alone, da'len. Even now."

"What do you mean by "even now"?" 

The spirit moved to the side to reveal a sad, lone white wolf across a vast distance. It's gray eyes looked into her's once, then quickly turned away. It faded as quickly as it had come.

Ghilina reached out instinctively, "Solas!"

"You will not catch him, not here." Hope warned.

"What?"

"Here he knows. Endless years spent learning how to bend and twist all things across the veil, his creation, into shapes; into what he wills it to be. You cannot find him here."

Ghilina frowned and looked down at her feet, thoughtful and sad. What the spirit said next startled her, "He sees your hopes as well as your fears. He sees them play out here in your dreams as he watches over the dreamer. He sees the place you hold for him there, and the thought of that future with you has already planted the smallest of seeds in his heart."

Ghilina's brows furrowed with confusion as she searched the spirit's featureless face, "he… wants that future?"

"As surely as he wants the other. He is torn and hurting. But hope for the future he would share with you is one I cannot reach. Only you have the ability to reach it. To nurture it."

"How?"

"You have touched his heart deeper than most ever have. He has tried to harden his heart to you, but cannot. You, only you, are the key to the Dread Wolf's heart. To reach him, though, you must first wake up."

     Waking each morning was no longer the pleasure it had been in Skyhold. There was always that moment when she felt whole again, refreshed by the visions of the night before. But unlike before, her heart retained a lightness it hadn't before. Though her dreams faded with the rising of the sun, glistening off the morning dew from the night's rains, she felt motivation returning. A sense of hope she hadn't felt since the disbandment of the Inquisition. 

And as the knocks on her Inn room door signaled the arrival of the informant, Ghilina rose to answer. Purpose renewed, she was ready to continue fighting for a way to change her lover's heart.

[himluv]

Napping Together

Oh look! More Solavellan. Who woulda guessed? It’s day 4 of 14 Days of Dragon Age Lovers, so have some fluff with a touch of angst.

It hadn’t been raining when they first set out for the ruin. It had been cloudy but the sunlight broke through to dapple the leaves of the giant trees. The air had been humid though, they should have anticipated the change in weather.

Now Solas and Riallan took shelter in the ruin, most of an old chapel from before the Exalted March. Or, that’s what the Orlesians had used it for when they took the Emerald Graves once more. Before that it had probably been a Dalish outpost or way-station. A place of rest and recovery for weary travelers.

“It doesn’t look like it’s going to let up any time soon,” she said.

Dark clouds filled the gaps in the forest canopy, and the patter of rain on the leaves made for a soothing backdrop. It would be a simple thing to slip into the Fade here, to explore what once was.

He glanced at her, wondered if he should suggest such a thing, then imagined her joy at the offer.

She caught his smile and tilted her head. “What?”

“Since it seems we have time,” he said. “Would you like to explore the memories of this place?”

Just as he expected, her eyes went wide and a grin claimed her face. “I’d love to!” She looked around the ruin and then back to him. “What do we do?”

He chuckled. “First, I place wards. It wouldn’t do to be caught unaware by Red Templars here.” He stood and cast his spells at the openings of the building. She watched him with her ever curious eyes, absorbing the details of his magic. Once the wards were in place he returned to her, settling down beside her in the center of the room. She followed his lead, laying on her side to press her back to his chest. He smiled into her hair when she wiggled against him to get as close as possible.

“Do you need assistance falling asleep?” His voice was low, barely more than a murmur. The Fade called to him already, the habits well-established.

“A little,” she said. Her voice was sheepish, as if she were embarrassed that she couldn’t fall asleep right away.

“Close your eyes,” he said. “Focus on your breathing, slow and deep.”

She did as he said, and as she breathed he ran his fingers through her hair, sending a gentle stream of soothing power into her skin. It would help settle her mind and open her consciousness to the Fade.

She hummed, the sound soft and dreamy. “That feels nice,” she whispered.

“I’m glad,” he said, but she didn’t hear him. She was already asleep. He let his arm rest over her hip and breathed deep the smell of her hair. The scent of rain and trees and a hint of crystal grace pulled him down into the depths of sleep and into the Fade.

He found Riallan standing in the center of the chapel blinking in awe at her surroundings. The room looked much different than it did in their time. Instead of stone pocked with lichen and moss, it was gleaming and white, reflecting the glow of the candles. Gold bordered the ceiling and the floor adding to the warmth of the room. Incense burned in one corner on a small altar, and outside the windows rain fell in a gentle mist.

As he’d expected it was a way-station, a place for rest and meditation on a long journey. But even in the memory it stood empty.

She turned to face him. “I expected to see people,” she said.

“As did I,” he said. “We’ve found a quiet memory it seems.”

She seemed no less excited for the quiet. She wandered the structure, taking in the details as she always did when they explored somewhere new. She stopped before a mosaic, this one depicting Sylaise.

“This isn’t the same as the others we’ve seen,” she said.

He smiled. She was so clever, observant to the point that she seemed clairvoyant. “It is not,” he said. “The other mosaics were ancient, from Elvhenan. These are reproductions, an attempt by these Dalish to recreate the art of their past.”

He smile quavered, a sadness tugging at her chin. “It’s still beautiful,” she said.

“It is,” he admitted. Not as striking as the art of Arlathan, but still admirable.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “I wish it had survived the Exalted March.” She ran her hand over the glitter fragments. “So much was lost.”

“How do the Dalish make art?” He wanted to distract her from her sadness.

“We dance, make music, and craft clothing, weapons and instruments.” She shrugged. “We don’t have walls to hang art, or to paint, though we do sew designs on the sails of the aravels. And in my clan Deshanna encouraged us to paint the hulls and insides of the aravels too.” She shook her head. “But nothing like this. We just don’t have the time.”

He smiled. “Keep in mind, in Elvhenan all they had was time.”

“I don’t know if I would like that,” she said.

“No?”

“Living forever? I think I’d get bored.”

He laughed. “I think you would find ways to fill your time.” He could see her learning everything Thedas had to offer, and then exploring to the ends of the earth in pursuit of more knowledge. He would happily follow her, just to witness the joy on her face at each new discovery.

She opened her mouth to argue, but stopped as a woman walked into the room.

She was short and thin, with long, silver hair braided up into a twisting ponytail. She wore long, flowing robes in cascading shades of blue and green, and her vallaslin, devoting her to Sylaise, surrounded her left eye in a deep violet hue. Gold hoops and dangles adorned her ears, and more gold glinted at her wrists and on her fingers.

She was breathtaking, in an ethereal way. Other-wordly, even to him. This was a time set apart from both Elvhenan and modern Thedas. Riallan was enthralled by her at once.

“She can’t see us,” she said.

“No, vhenan. We are mere observers.”

She stepped closer, following the woman as she approached the incense and knelt before the tiny altar. The woman proceeded to pray, the elvhen pouring from her much faster than Riallan could follow. It wasn’t Elvhen as he knew it, the accent was off, and there were a few words he did not recognize, but it was much closer than the broken language the Dalish of today spoke.

Ria’s eyes darted back and forth, unseeing as she struggled to catch what the woman said. She turned to him with wide, nearly panicked eyes. “What is she saying?”

He came to stand beside her, looking down on the woman. “She is praying to Sylaise. Thanking her for the fire that warms her home and allows her to cook for her family.”

“That’s it?”

He laughed. “You expected something else?”

She gestured at the woman. “Look at her! She looks like a goddess, a queen. And she’s just a normal woman?” She watched her for a moment longer, and when she turned back to look at him tears shone in her eyes. “She had such decadence. Such luxury. A home.” She pointed at the woman, as if she had offended her in some way. “And now we live in glorified wagons eking out an existence on the fringes of this world!”

He was a fool. He so frequently found solace in the memories of the world that had been, it had never occurred to him that the sight of what the elves once were would bring her pain. Solas took her hand, pulling her thoughts back to him. “Ir abelas, vhenan.”

She frowned. “Why are you sorry?”

He shook his head. “I did not bring you here to cause you pain.”

Green eyes, always so much brighter in the Fade, searched his face. “Solas,” she looked around the chapel, gaze lingering on the praying woman before they returned to him. “This is a gift.” She held both his hands, her grip firm and steady. “And it hurts, because I can truly see just how far we’ve fallen, but it’s no less marvelous.” She smiled at him, her anger lost to wonder. “It hurts, but I love it. I wish I could see it all.”

She had no idea how those words affected him. If he could show her Arlathan, show her the world as it used to be. As it should be…

It was the sweetest ache of longing, and yet he knew it was merely fantasy. He could never show her Arlathan, for fear she would finally see through all his omissions and half-truths. She was far too clever to believe him forever.

He smiled at her, ran his fingers through her short hair. “Then we will have to visit more places,” he said. His stomach flipped at her smile, the adoration in her eyes, even as his heart thundered his protest.

That was a promise he could not keep.

“We should go, before the others begin to worry,” he said.

She glanced around the room one last time, as if to memorize the way it looked once upon a time, and then she gave him the sweetest smile. “All right.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m ready.”

He cupped her face in both hands and kissed her. He languished in the taste of her, and in the Fade it was as if her awe and joy were flavors unto themselves. And for the barest moment he imagined a life spent with her, traveling the world and exploring the past and present.

Building a future.

It was a pain too blissful to think on for long. He broke their kiss and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Wake up.”

[in-arlathan]

These Stolen Moments (Solas Edition)

Characters: Female Lavellan, Solas, Varric Tethras Pairing: Solavellan Chapters: 1/1, Length: 2,878 words Rating: PG-13, Teen Audiences and up

Summary: A retelling from my last Solavellan story, but from Solas’s point of view. Totally wrote this for the extra bit at the end where he and Varric have a little heart-to-heart. You can find the original version over here.

A/N: Yeah, I did it. I wrote the same story all-over again. I simply couldn’t refuse. It’s always such a delight to write from Solas’s perspective and I really wanted to explore his conflicted feelings for Lavellan in this one.

I used my Elenara for both versions of this story, but tried to write it in a way for you to head-canon your own Lavellan in there, if you like. Either way, I hope you enjoy reading this.

You can also read this on AO3.

______

He knew it was her even before he saw her walking down the hall.

It was her steps that gave her away. They were careful and almost silent against the soft hiss of the wind that flooded into the hall. 

Even after all this time, she still moved like a hunter. 

Solas turned his gaze from the stars in the night sky and toward Skyhold’s main hall. From the balcony on the upper floor, he watched Elenara as she made her way to the corridor leading to the castle’s rotunda. She carried a variety of books with her, an expression of worry on her face. 

He waited until she had vanished through the door and listened as she climbed the steps to the upper floor. For a while, he heard her shuffling, before he decided to see what kept her up at night.

When he entered the library, she stood by the small nook that was usually occupied by Dorian Pavus during his stays at Skyhold. She had lit one of the candelabras for better lighting and was busy putting the books back on the shelves. Her brows were furrowed and her eyes darker than he had ever seen them before.

“I see you are still awake,” Solas pointed out.

She whirled around on instinct, her entire body tense like a bowstring. It took her a moment to recognize him.

“Solas!”, she exclaimed and let out a sigh of relief. “Good Creators, you startled me!”

He chuckled softly as he stepped into the circle of soft candle light. “I’m sorry, vhenan,” he said wringing his hands. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright,” she told him with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Where did you come from? I thought you’d already gone to bed.”

“I was out on the balcony for some fresh air,” he said gesturing towards the door through which he’d entered the library. “Then I heard footsteps and concluded that it was you, so I came to see if you’re alright.”

“You knew that it was me … by my footsteps?”

“Of course.” He said. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just… something a hunter might do, not a mage,” she explained.

“You should never underestimate my tracking skills, vhenan.” A sly smile tugged at his lips. “I survived on my own in the wilderness for a good long while, after all.”

She blinked at him and for a moment it seemed like she wanted to investigate what he truly meant be that, but then she settled for the more obvious question.

“Why are you still awake?” she asked.

“There was something wrong with the tea”, he replied and pressed his lips together for an instant. Even the memory of that sour-tasting drink made his stomach churn. “It was caffeinated and kept me awake long after dark. Well, keeps me awake”, he clarified. “I am still waiting for the effect to wear off.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said and gave him a warm and comforting smile. Of all the people in the Inquisition, she had been the only one not to mock him for his wish to wander within the Fade as much as possible. She understood what it meant to him even though she was not a Dreamer herself, or even a mage for that matter. It was a rare quality that made her companionship even more valuable to him.

“What about you?” he asked.

She weighed the book in her hand, then put it back on the shelf. “Couldn’t sleep either,” she said wearily. “There is just… so much to think about…”

Solas took another step towards her, drawn to her as if by magic. Before even he himself knew what he was doing, he reached around her with his left hand and placed it on her lower back.

“If you like to share your thoughts with me, I’d be happy to listen,” he said in a quiet voice.

Startled by his touch, Elenara straightened her shoulders. He couldn’t blame her. The last time they’d been this close, he had kissed her passionately, only to run from her shortly afterwards. He still felt sorry for having done that to her. She had been nothing but forthcoming, never forcing him to do something he didn’t want, but he had been frightened by the power she possessed over him. He still was, most of the time. Yet, he found himself unable to stay away from her.

She cleared her throat and looked away to avoid his gaze. “I’ve been reading all lot of these books lately,” she said and nodded to the tomes on the shelves around them. “I had hoped to find some answers in the old text but all it did was made me think. How can anyone do justice to this world? How can you set everything right, seeing all the bad things happening to good people? How am I supposed to do all this?”

The pain in her voice was almost too much to bear. Solas knew that this burden should have never been hers. He alone had chosen to walk the Din’anshiral. But now she walked the path he had laid out for himself and he had no one but himself to blame for her anguish.

It was never supposed to happened this way, he thought bitterly.

“I don’t know if I can provide a satisfying answer to your questions,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. “I’m not sure that anyone can. All we can do is trust in your capabilities to lead this Inquisition, for better or worse.”

Her lips twisted into a sad smile. “I was afraid you might say that.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” she replied. “It’s not like any of this is your fault.”

Unwillingly, his hand on her back twitched ever so slightly.

If you only knew, vhenan.

“Is there something on your mind?”, she asked with an encouraging smile. “You seemed to be on edge these last couple of weeks.”

“It was nothing to concern yourself with,” he said evasively and his gaze flicked to her lips. “My troubles will pass, one way or another.”

“Is there anything I can do to lift your spirits?” she asked teasingly.

“A kiss would be a good way to start,” he answered.

Wait…

Did he really just say that?

Elenara raised her eyebrows. Apparently, she was as stunned by his answer as he was, but the feeling didn’t last and the baffled expression on her face shifted to something close to excitement.

“Come here, then,” she whispered and turned to face him directly.

Solas let his hand slip from her back to her waist and brought up the other one to hold her tightly.

She cupped his face with one hand with her thumb resting on his lips.

“My heart,” she breathed.

He allowed Elenara to guide his face towards hers, brushing her lips faintly against his.

Her kisses were soft and gentle, full of adoration and restrained desire. In a way, they were the perfect reflection of his own feelings. With her, the troubles of his past faded into the far-flung corners of his mind and he could pretend that he was a different man. A man whose only wish in life was to give love and to revel in the undying affection he received in return.

He couldn’t recall a time when he had felt like this before.

Back in the days of Arlathan, he’d had a string of lovers, indulging in his own desires like the rest of his kind without ever feeling a true sense of connection or commitment. Love-making had been a pleasant pass-time for him, nothing more. But here, with her, everything was different. Instead of lust, he felt a deep longing for more, a craving of the soul that he’d never experienced before. When she touched him, her warmth sunk deep into his skin and filled his body with peace and excitement at the same time. Being apart from her left him restless, sleepless. Even in the Fade, he dreamt of her walking by his side, holding him tight.

It was a cruel trick of the universe to let him fall for her, of all people.

Upon their first encounter, Solas had felt enraged by her very existence. Knowing she carried the anchor that was ultimately his had fueled his hatred for this world. But when he had taken her hand and helped her guide the energy of the anchor to seal the rifts, something had changed within him. Suddenly, he had seen more in her than another of his many mistakes. Her vigilance had made her see the woman, the person, she truly was.

Now the thought of not being with her caused him physical pain. When he kissed her, he feared he might burn from the inside out with the overwhelming might of feelings he had for her. To keep them contained was the hardest thing he had to do in all his life. In all of eternity.

Elenara shifted in his arms, her hands resting gently on his chest. He could hear her muffled moans as she kissed him, begging him to go further. And he wanted to, wanted it so badly. Yet, he held back, afraid to give in.

When they finally parted, she rested her forehead against his, her breath tickling his skin.

“I enjoy kissing you far too much,” he said.

“You make it sound like a bad thing,” she replied, eyebrows raised.

He felt his cheeks color. “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant,” he hurried to say. “It’s just... I’m not …”

“… used to it,” she said, finishing the sentence for him. “I know. We should do this more often, then.” She brushed her lips against his once more. It was not a kiss, not quite, but it set his body on fire nonetheless. “Besides, I enjoy kissing you, too.”

With that, she pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His body tensed, but when she opened her mouth and deepened the kiss, he couldn’t hold up any longer. Accepting the invitation, his lips parted and his tongue entered her mouth. A taste like wild berries and honey flooded his senses, as she returned the kiss with the same passion.

For a short while he felt nothing but the delicate movements of her tongue, the warmth of her body beneath his fingers. Whoever he had been done before, whatever he had done, none of it mattered any more. He was Solas, simple as that, and for once, he allowed himself to truly live in the moment.  

He pulled back the tiniest bit, his heart thundering in his chest.

“I want you,” he whispered.

“I want you, too,” she said and kissed one corner of his mouth. He sighed softly, his eyes half-closed.

She forced herself to look at him. “Come with me,” she said, taking his hand and nodding in the vague direction of the Inquisitor’s tower.

He understood immediately. She wanted go somewhere private, where they could continue what they started here. For a moment, images of her undressing herself flashed through his mind. He wanted to touch her naked body, to give her pleasure. But then again…

“I don’t think…”, was all he could manage, before he was cut off.

“Lady Inquisitor!”

She flinched, alarmed by the sound of Leliana’s voice, and drew back a tiny bit. In that instant, he knew it was his only chance to retreat. If he didn’t, he knew he would give into his desire. He would follow her up to her quarters, ready to rip the clothes from her body and cover every part of her with gentle kisses. But he could not do that. She deserved better a man whom she could trust with all her heart.

He was not that man.

And so Solas forced himself to step back.

“Don’t…” she gasped, but he shook his head.

“You have other matters to attend to, my heart.”

The look she gave him hurt him more than he would have like to admit. Disappointment, hurt and confusion mixed in her expression and he had to steel himself against her sadness.

If you only knew, vhenan.

“Goodnight, Inquisitor,” Solas said as casually as possible and took another step back. He bowed slightly just when Leliana reached the top of the stairs, then turned on his heels and headed in the opposite direction.

All the way back to his quarters in the tower, his heart raced like he’d just ran a dozen miles. In his mind, he conjured wild fantasies of her lying in his arms, her legs tangled with his, her skin hot and sweaty from love-making. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the door to Varric’s room open right behind him.

“Ah, Chuckles,” the dwarf exclaimed. “I’d hoped to catch you alone. Do you have a moment?”

Solas stopped dead in his tracks. Slowly, he turned around to face Varric, hoping his face didn’t give what he felt in that precise moment.

“How may I help you, Master Tethras?” he asked and tried to sound as light-hearted as possible.

Varric coughed, then glanced over his shoulders, as if he feared that someone might overhear their conversation. Only when he was certain no one was about to burst out of their chambers, his gaze returned to Solas.

“It’s about Lavellan,” Varric said in a quiet voice.

Solas furrowed his brows. “What about her?”

“I know the two of you have been pretty hush-hush about the matter,” Varric continued, “but I have witnessed and written enough romances to recognize a couple in love.”

“Oh?” Solas mused in an ill-considered attempt to mock Varric, hoping it would put him off. “How so?”

The dwarf let out a small huffing sound and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “The yearning side-glances usually give it away.”

“Aha,” Solas said briskly. “Well, in any event, it is a private matter and I would rather not discuss it.”

“Yeah, I figured you say something like that.”

“But you’re going to tell me whatever is on your mind regardless of what I just said, aren’t you?”

Solas knew he was being harsh and a small part of him was sorry for that. Varric had never offended him. As a matter of fact, the dwarf’s advice had proved rather useful on more than one occasion and had helped Solas to see things from a different perspective. Yet, he didn’t want Varric to look into the matter. Things between Solas and Lavellan were complicated enough as they were.

“Lavellan is… well, people believe she is this heavenly creature, send by the Maker to set things right, blah blah blah. But you and I, we know that is not true. She is a woman, a person, just like the rest of us, and a good person at that,” Varric said. “She deserves some happiness.”

“She does,” Solas admitted. “But that is not why you wanted to talk to me in the middle of the night.”

Varric squared his shoulders, trying to look casual. “I just wanted to make sure you won’t hurt her, Chuckles.”

Unwillingly, Solas felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. Did the dwarf suspect something? No, he’d been careful when it came to the stories he told about his past. He’d spun his tale from truth as well as deception, and to good effect. The best lie was the one that included a grain of truth, after all. Still, he felt the need to dispel Varric’s doubts. He couldn’t have anyone sniffing around while Corypheus was still out there, wielding the orb that he, Solas, had given to him.

“It was never my intention to hurt her,” he said.

That was true as far as it went.

“I see,” Varric replied. “So, we’re good then.”

“Weren’t we, Child of the Stone?”

“Let’s just say, I would feel compelled to come and kill you if did something to her”, Varric replied. “I’ve become quite fond of her.”

Solas chuckled, despite himself. 

“Don’t laugh”, Varric said in an attempt to sound intimidating, but the smile on his voice betrayed him. “I have a network of spies at my disposal. They’d track you down in no time.”

“I have no doubts about that, Master Tethras,” Solas replied. “But as I said, it was never my intent to cause her pain.”

“That’s… good,” Varric said. “Well, I guess that is that. We can all go back to sleep now. No hard feelings.”

“No hard feelings,” Solas echoed.

“Yeah, right,” Varric mumbled. “Goodnight, Chuckles.”

“Same to you, Master Tethras.”

And with that, Varric returned to his chambers, locking the door behind him.

Solas felt a pang of guilt settling in his guts.

Despite anything he told Varric, his intentions were worth nothing. He’d intended to protect Mythal and failed. He’d intended to protect his people from the wrath of the Evanuris and failed. He’d intended to free the elves slavery when he formed the Veil and failed yet again.

With Elenara, it wouldn’t be any different. No matter how much he wanted to make her happy, one day he would have to reveal himself to her.

And when he did, it would cause her pain beyond imagining.

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

Title: Masked Ball Fandom: Dragon Age Pairing: Solavellan Words: 3195 Series: [Talking To Yourself] Also read here: AO3

Tallin Lavellan x Solas | Post-Crestwood (memory of before) | romance | angst In one of the many instances of Tallin ruminating on her now-defunct relationship with Solas, she recalls the Winter Palace: The initial unkindness suffered at the hands of the nobility, an unnervingly out-of-character Solas, and a failed dance.

Remember the Winter Palace? Of course you do. That was a stupid question, sorry.

I was out-of-place. I knew. They knew. It was the first time that I could feel my vallaslin burning on my skin since the initial scabbing had sloughed off. Burning from..what? 

The human nobles’ eyes on me, just like back at Haven, just like in the courtyard of Skyhold. Waiting for me to do something. Do what? What did they want? I couldn't hide from them. 

Cullen told me you slipped in ahead of us, and you remained out of sight until it was time for me to be presented to the court and greet the Empress. Like Cole, you materialized without a word and remarked upon the task before us. I could only nod and try my best to not allow the glaring lights from the chandeliers and candles blind me, not fiddle nervously with my gloved hands, not forget to breathe as I descended the red carpeted stairs and crossed the ballroom floor.

Josephine told me to watch what I said, so I said nothing unless I had to, and I was so nervous that I just said what I thought. They wore masks. How could I possibly tell what they wanted to hear if I couldn't see their faces? You can fake so much with the mouth and voice. I was glad I brought Cole along. Not that I wouldn't have wanted to go with just you! Ah, n-not that I had forgotten why we were there! Not that I'd forgotten that this was the place that my people--

Ah, I'm sorry. You don't like it when I talk about Dalish history. I'm sorry.

They called me a savage under their breaths. The clan elders had talked about what the humans called us and how we should not allow those words to wound us like arrows as they were intended to, but it was the first time that I had heard someone use such speech to describe me. I told you I had never met a human before the Conclave. Or rather, I hid behind the aravels or ducked behind the halla whenever they approached the elders for trade and disagreements. I listened but didn't speak to them then, and those men were usually civil.

Ahh-haah, I suppose I should consider myself lucky that Cassandra never resorted to such words, even when she suspected me of causing the explosion at the Conclave. Roderick didn’t, either. He hated me, you know--of course you know, you were there--but he never insulted me like that...

So no, I truly had never been called such things before that night. I always fear that people speak badly of me when they think I am not listening, but it was only there, surrounded by those people weighed down by ostentatious amounts of silk and cotton and gilded metals that I realized that my nightmares had finally come true.

The words did end up hurting. I wasn't used to it, not like you were, not like you always were.

Very quickly I fell back to my old ways in order to paste together my quickly-crumbling composure. Rocking nervously on my heeled boots. Fixing my hair. Pretending yet again to look out one of the many windows so I could just practice breathing and collect myself. I could not blow this. I could not. I absolutely could not. I could not disappoint anyone, you most of all.

But I knew people were watching. They were watching every single second of it. That was what these gatherings were for, weren’t they, an excuse to pick people apart. Why are these noble humans so cruel, why do they find cruelty to be fun? And why is cruelty rewarded with more cake and tea?  

I resolved to find you. I needed you. Again, you had disappeared from the ballroom as soon as I concluded my self-introduction to Empress Celene. Ironically, it took a momentous amount of courage to leave the ballroom. If I was flagging so miserably here, surely other areas for the mingling of guests would prove just as difficult? 

But I gingerly walked through the only open wing, past guards who did not so much as glance at me, and there I saw you.

When I saw you leaning against that statue in the guest wing, my heart flooded with a warm ache that was both suffocating and comforting. I thought we would be able to bond over how frivolous everything was. Being elves. Being outsiders. You were not Dalish, and I was, and though you knew so much of the world better than I, you dressed so simply, always, you spoke plainly, truthfully, you chose your words carefully to mean what they meant. I love you for it. Plain and simple and honest, like home. Like home.

I walked towards you, a beacon situated at the end of a long, polished floor. The sight of you, red and gold and blue, gave me strength to smile politely at the whispering guests as I passed them. I pictured what we would do together: We would laugh at them the same way they laughed at me, private jokes they would never get. You would agree it was all pointless but it must be done and how much better would the world be if this glittering one never existed?

But when I got closer, my hopeful smile had been wiped away: Tucked away in that corner, you were watching everyone, smirking. At first I thought you had started without me--what jokes would you have for me about what you had seen so far? Cullen told me you slipped in before us. How did you do that? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It was a stupid question.

When you saw me, the edges in your face--cruel, I thought. For only a moment, I swear!--softened. Somewhat. You were still shining with so much happiness, and a small fearful thought in the back of my head, a wordless one that speaking with you gradually began to give sound, whispered that you were happy because of them, not despite them. I saw it in your eyes, and you told me that you felt at home here. 

Here, among these humans that would scheme to keep lands from ou--my people? That would levy heavy taxes on their serfs, or kill each other over a perceived slight without a moment's hesitation?

And as you spoke, that glimmer in your eyes had only confirmed my fears. How much you reveled in the trysts and the gossip and the games the humans played with each other! There were lives at stake, and they cared about such silly things. Even Leliana! You were deriving amusement from this entirely different world than the one I knew.

You were always so reserved even when we were together, and it was rare when I managed to even make your teeth show in your smile. And yet these people, these cruel people who sneered at our race--they made you smirk, they pleased you in a way I hadn't yet been able to.

It was the first time I remember...doubting. Doubting you. You and myself. I don't know for what, but..

But I pushed those thoughts away. Because they suggested you were not honest, because they would lead me to question you, and I couldn't let that happen. Not now.

You asked what was wrong. I could not quite form the words, and instead chose to watch as you lifted a silver cup that had been perched on the base of the sculpture, held it out to the empty space to your left, have it be promptly filled by an elf servant standing idle, and then proceeded to take in a half-mouthful of the drink. All with the air of someone who had been born into gentility. Your eyes never left my face.

 My nervous stutter resurfaced in full force as I recalled all the things these people said with the sole intention to hurt, and how it hurt more because I was not brave enough to protest like you were, was not clever like Vivienne or Dorian and able to navigate their maze-like conversations. 

Another sip and a thin smile that had no teeth, not at all like the one you gave them. As you casually swirled your cup, you remarked that these people were quite inconsequential; I should not allow their words to poison my self-worth because I was far more honorable and accomplished. It is in the nature of humans to prey upon what they do not possess.

My throat clenched and I tried to swallow. Failed, but I tried. You did not offer me a sip of your wine, which I appreciated: My distrust of alcohol was established very early on in my childhood: the erratic ways it made people behave and speak was frightening. 

I wanted to stay near you despite this concerning change in your personality. We were there with an intent to save the Empress, but with people I didn't know whispering of my mistakes, my slip-ups behind their hands ... I needed you to ground me, protect me. I couldn't do it myself. I didn't want to be here, and now I was terrified that this would be yet another world that I could lose you in.

When you kindly suggested I eavesdrop on the servants, my mouth went dry. Your tone was amicable, but the words were dead nails in my ears. I stuttered, bowed my head because it was a scolding from an elder even when it wasn't. It was to me, so it was. No matter that I dared to think that we were together, I still hadn't allowed myself to think that, not yet, not yet. You were just being considerate to me, acting as a mentor, a guide, patient, patient, patient, patient with me when I never deserved it.

I remember thinking what a foolish thing I was doing, clinging to you like a child to her mother's dress. Foolish, foolish, childish.

Before I turned to return to my investigation..I don't know how, but I asked you if you would dance with me when everything was all done. Your voice held a tinge of surprise -- when I was forward with you, you were always taken aback. I still don't know where I got my courage in those moments. No, not courage. Desperation that bubbled over until I couldn't stop myself. I don't know, I don't know...

A small cant of your head and a softening of the creases at the corners of your eyes as the Solas I knew momentarily descended from his lofty libertine pedestal. “I would be honored.”

It gave me courage. I bowed my head and left you to weave between crinolined dresses and puffy shoulders to find Dorian, my other beacon of refuge, concentrating on keeping the tiny flame of a future reward burning in my gut.

After acquiring the key to the kitchens, you, me, Cole, and Dorian came together to further investigate the interior of Halamshiral. I did not expect how much more horrific the world of the nobility would reveal itself to be.

I tried not to cry when I saw all those dead servants. I did not scream when Leliana suggested we allow Empress Celene to die in order to draw out Florianne. I knew you would not approve of such an outburst that could jeopardize this mission, but also the calculated slaughter of a potentially strong ally. I did not want to do it in the first place, but I saw you in my mind's eye and I knew you wouldn't approve, so it's why I put my foot down. When Florianne was caught before the court, when I convinced Gaspard, Empress Celene, and Briala to work together for the betterment of the kingdom.. I was numb by the end. How I managed to rally the nobles to support these three powerful figures who were revealed to be just as untrustworthy and ambitious as the flocks they commanded, I don’t know. I don’t know.

Morrigan found me looking at the stars and trying to count each one so as to distract myself from the urge to cry. She was invaluable to the success of this mission, but I remained wary of her sudden presence even when she informed me of her new assignment to the Inquisition. I was grateful she did not pry into the reason for the misery painted on my face, nor my lack of enthusiasm for the celebration inside. She was gone as swiftly as she had come.

I waited for you with a quiet, pitiful desperation. My shoulders ached, my eyes hurt, my chest was hollow from the speech I gave as I addressed the people I had saved, the people that had scoffed and labelled me "savage" only two hours prior. They hadn't known me, and they still didn't, but now they were jubilant for something that did not involve the mockery or abject humiliation of another living being. 

And I just wanted to get away. I wanted to leave with you right then and there. But all I could do was stand on the balcony and try not to throw up while my face prickled and buzzed from the afterglow of all of those lying eyes staring up at me from the dance floor.

I cried again for a bit as I waited for you, I think some of those tears were out of fear that you had forgotten about what you promised earlier. Time stood still and circled around itself as I realized that my vision was blurring and the stars were turning into smeared firefly lights instead of concise pinpricks.

And then again, like a ghost, you alighted by my side and settled against the bannister as I had.

“I am not surprised to find you here.” Simple warm conversation with you, what I quietly wished for as my heart was buffeted unceasingly by the sordid words and threads of schemes interwoven by these unbelievably amoral people.

And now that the opportunity presented itself?

Silence as I stared out beyond the wide expanse of dark forest stretching into oblivion far beyond the grounds of the Winter Palace. Again, you offered a prompt for chatter by remarking upon the fickle nature of human nobility with that same wry tone. The purpose was for irony and consolation, yet it did not help as much as I wanted it to. My mouth didn’t even twitch with mirth.

Your fill of drink and sweets had not dulled you to the severity of my gloom. After a further few more minutes of me wiping my eyes and sniffling, you placed a hand on my shoulder. “Come.” 

The night had worn heavily on me, but there still remained the desire to make you proud, to not disappoint you or look any more juvenile than I already had. I wanted to dance, I really did, so when you offered me the chance... 

As we stepped back to allow ourselves more room, I mentally screamed at myself to drum up the enthusiasm required. Where had it gone? How could it all be snuffed away?  

You pulled me close and I smelled the wine you had earlier this evening on your breath. Tendrils of dull distress creeped beneath my skin. This was not you, this was not the hahren I knew. It was you but it wasn’t. It was not the right person.

I closed my eyes to shut out the world and my self. Doing so, however, helped bring attention that beyond the drink still remained the faint scent of forest moss that clung to you like a second skin. A faint flicker of hope cautiously kindled itself. After reassuring if I was okay, you began to guide me across the balcony. 

I tried my best to keep up with you, I did, I wanted to show you all the steps Josephine had taught me, everything I practiced for this night, everything I practiced hoping to impress you. 

But I faltered. I tripped, like an idiot, like a fool. A stupid, stupid Dalish elf girl out-of-place among the silks and fake smiles and sweet cakes and this treacherous world that entertained you more than I ever could.

You caught me before I could collapse on the ground, as my body was by now overflowing with despair. Give up, give up, give up.  

There was no means of stopping the tears from falling down my burning cheeks. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I apologized to the shiny brass buttons of your coat. “I--I--I can d-do this.” And yet I wasn’t, not tonight, not with the person for whom it mattered the most.“I’ve b-been practicing,” I added weakly, shaking visibly in place. “I h-have--”

Your hand left my waist, and I hung my head in defeat as an entirely new wave of misery washed over me. I was beyond help, you realized in that moment.

The tiniest surprised huff of air left me when your fingers gently tucked my chin up. I sniffed, wet eyes wide with curiosity. “I know you have.”

You closed your eyes and turned your head to bring the back of my being-led hand to your lips. It was warm and soft. I sniffed. My ears picked up on the tiny sounds your kisses made as they were planted at random across my skin. This lasted for a minute, perhaps fifteen, I couldn’t be sure. 

“You do not need to impress me.” Hand back on my waist. A soft smile that reminded me of Mother. “Enjoy yourself, help me celebrate your diplomatic success.”

I tried to smile, to accept your optimism, but it hurt my mouth. You didn't shake me off when I stumbled again after only four more steps and gripped you tightly and once again whispered my stuttered apologies for ruining this moment we had together. I was done, I was done for the night. I couldn’t do this. No more. No more.

When it's you I can't think straight. Everything was already fuzzy and knotted that night and you made it--you didn't make it worse, don't think that, no, no I needed you then, I need you now--I made it--

I'm still sorry for ruining your evening, even though it seems so long ago. You told me you understood, you gave me the same look I remember Mother always gave me when I was small and didn't know why I was crying, only that I needed to for some reason, needed someone to tell me I could.

And you did. “Exhausted” as I was, “considering everything that had happened”...

You then took to meeting my numerous sorry’s with hushes. I said "sorry" a lot that night, but you eventually let me explain why I was sorry, and I managed to get in another sorry in for being so difficult. You gave me such an exasperated look then, but before I could start crying again your brows lifted and you said that I was too hard on myself and that you loved me, it was fine, you loved me, it was fine, hush, hush, hush.

I think I even napped for a minute on your shoulder as you held me close while we swayed in place as the violins began to slow. What was it like, to dance with a child?

That was the first and last time we ever did something like that.

[salexectrian-heir]

Loki: Chapter 8* (NSFW)

Pairing: Solavellan Rating: E* (not every chapter is E, most are rated T. Chapters containing explicit content will be marked with an asterisk* Summary: Lavellan rescued a mischievious sphynx kitten outside her work who loves her dearly. But his destructive habits start to get out of hand when he steals her attractive neighbor’s underwear… repeatedly. [Previous Chapter]      [Read on AO3]

Unfortunately, her focus evaded her at the hospital. She filed four charts in incorrect places (thankfully Dorian caught them in time), spilled soup down the front of her scrub shirt at lunch, and slipped in a puddle of some sort of fluid that had been left unattended to in the hallway. It didn’t smell of urine from what she could tell, but she wasn’t about to go sniffing it. She groaned as she sat up, careful not to touch whatever the wet substance was that brought her down. Her pants though were a lost cause.

“Having a rough day, my dear?”

Her stomach dropped. As if her day couldn’t get any worse. She had been avoiding the Chief of Surgery all morning because of the file mix up, and of course this would be the moment the Chief found her.

“What gave it away,” she asked weakly, looking up to meet the impenetrable stare of Dr. De Fer. To her surprise, the Chief looked slightly amused.

“In my own experience, nothing is more detrimental to a young doctor’s career than a lack of focus.”

The tips of Anise’s ears began to burn. “I apologize Chief, I’m just...off today.”

“I know, darling. This isn’t like you. Take an hour for lunch to collect yourself and your thoughts,” Vivienne drew herself to her full height, eye her speculatively, “and perhaps a fresh set of clothes. When you return please come see me in my office, there is a matter of paramount importance we need to discuss.”

The Chief sauntered out, causing a few of the other staff members down the hall jump back to get out of her way. No one messed with the Iron Lady. The second Vivienne was out of sight, and earshot, Anise groaned and pulled herself off the floor, taking part of the mysterious liquid with her. She peeled the wet clothing from the back of her thighs and did her best not to cry. How in the world was she supposed to make it to the end of her shift in one piece and prepare herself to have The Conversation about the future of her relationship with Solas if the world repeatedly reminding her it was against her?

The sound of wheels creaking drew her attention from her wet pants to the nurse that was scurrying down the hall pushing a mop bucket towards her.

“Awh, shite. Don’t tell me you slipped innit?”

Anise cringed and nodded. “Do I even want to know what it is?”

The nurse shoved her short sandy hair back off her forehead with a rough gesture, “Jus lemonade, I dropped it coming in.” Despite her crass attitude, the woman did appear upset, “Hope you didn’t get hurt.”

“Lemonade is walk in the park.” Anise let out an amused sigh. It was just lemonade, “I’ll be alright. Thanks.”

“Wait, did you think it was piss or something?” The woman snorted, “I can’t believe your not tweakin’ out!” The nurse cackled. “Damn if I knew you weren’t one of them serious docs with a stick up their arse I woulda said something worse.” Her mouth split into a grin. It was infectious. “Maybe I should start a rumor. “The Herald of the OR slipped in ji--”

“Don’t you even dare,” Anise threatened half-heartedly, passing the nurse as she started to mop the mess.

The woman’s continued cackles echoed down the hall as Anise turned the corner. Perhaps she would make it through after all.

She did survive, to her great relief. The rest of her day after her interaction with Sera, she had learned the nurse’s name from Cole--another nurse, who knew everyone and everything about everyone and somehow still didn’t have people to sit with in the cafeteria for lunch--went smoothly. Anise made a mental note to take lunch more often to keep lone nurse company. It appeared they could both use it.

Her meeting with Vivienne was better than she could have imagined. It was not about her filing error--though it was discussed and reprimanded briefly--but about a personal matter of the Chief. Vivienne Vivienne confided in Anise that White Spire Hospital in Orlais was going to have an opening in their Chief of Surgery position, and had invited her to apply--and that she was considering it. It wouldn’t be for another year or two, depending when the current Chief decided to retire, but the application and interviewing process apparently was long and grueling. They wanted Vivienne to apply as early as possible. This news was to be kept between the two of them until Vivienne found out more information about the position and her chances of being selected. Vivienne also mentioned just before she released Anise that if she was selected, and did accept the position, she did not intend to make the transition alone. She would still be keeping her eye on Anise as the White Spire had many fellowship opportunities, including specialized trauma. Anise nearly fainted.

She had a lot to think about regarding her future. This news was something she immediately wanted to share with Solas, but stopped herself from stealing a moment in an on-call room to text him. After last night, she still couldn’t shake the feeling his “considerations” was going to translate as “I can’t date you anymore because I don’t see a future with you”,  and that thought alone was enough to shut her down from sharing this exciting development in her life.

And later at the end of her shift, when she was changing out of her scrubs and into her street clothes, another idea manifested.

Maybe when he says old-fashioned, he truly means that in regards to physical intimacy.

She lightly beat her forehead against her locker. She had been truly an ass last night in the laundry room if that was case. She had just assumed he would be okay with sex and hadn’t even thought about asking him. If that was the conversation they were going to have, she would make sure to start off apologizing for misinterpreting his boundaries. But something in the way he kissed her had her doubting that line of thought. The way he claimed her was raw, passionate, and physical… the insinuations of his tongue left her mind reeling with fantasies. But then again, someone can still believe in not being sexually intimate and still be physically intimate to a certain extent. Neither of them had even brought up the idea of being exclusive, so she again had just assumed he was okay with the loose labels.

He was throwing her for a loop.

By the time she got home, she a mess all over again, mind consumed by what Solas’ considerations were going to be. Her stomach was tying itself into knots. She didn’t want to lose him, and the weight of that realization scared her too. She had several past relationships that she over invested herself in, some which hadn’t been “official” or “labeled” in, some that were healthy, others that were… less so. And one engagement that ended because of a miscarriage.

Her head dropped into her hands.

If he learned this about her, would he leave her? End it?A little voice at the back of her head chided her that he was too good to be true. She was getting ahead of herself. They had to actually decide what they even were first. She ignored the negative thoughts as best she could as she went through motions of getting ready.

Loki lurked around her ankles as she flitted around her apartment, between her bedroom and the bathroom. He held a one sided conversation, meowing and chirping at her sensing her distress. When she finally sat down on her freshly made bed, in her underwear, he jumped up into her lap and headbutted her bicep, purring loudly.

“Hi baby boy,” she cooed, earning her a few scratchy licks to her bare upper arm, “I am at a loss. I don’t know what to wear.”

An undecipherable yowl met her ears.

“I want to look nice, but not like I’m trying too hard,” she answered him, idly stroking the spot between his shoulder blades he liked so much, “I don’t even know what I’m getting into. Gods I suck at dating.”

Loki placed his paws on her chest and pushed himself up, sniffing her chin. His cold little nose bumped the underside of her jaw.

“A dress might be over doing it,” she said, eyeing the teal dress she wore on their first date from the open doors of her closet, “but jeans seem too informal. A skirt maybe…”

She scooped Loki off her lap and dumped him on her pillows. He made an adorable grunt like sound as he hit their soft surfaces. Anise pulled the only two skirts she owned from the closet and laid them out on the bed, one loosely pleated white one that came to about mid thigh and one black empire waisted pencil skirt. . She perused through her limited selection of tops that matched the styles, and finally settled on a very pale pink cropped tank that was stitched with vertical grooves to pair with the white skirt. To finish it off she grabbed the floral printed kimono shawl she had received from her sister-in-law for Wintersend and a pair of nude flats.

“Loki?”

The mewl he gave she took as meow of approval.  

Anise knocked on his door promptly at six. Her nerves fluttered around her ribcage like butterflies trapped in net. Whatever he was cooking was wafting from his apartment, filling the hall with an intoxicating was intoxicating scent, making her mouth water. He answered almost immediately, eyes widening as he took in the sight of her standing before him.

“Hi,” she said meekly, reaching up to smooth a piece of hair behind her ear. She had worn it down tonight.

“Hello Anise,” he greeted, voice leveled and low, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

He took a step back and made a sweeping gesture to let her in. He had corner apartment, and was lucky to get more windows than most tennants. Curtains were half drawn to let him some of the dying light from the sunset illuminate the room. His apartment was much different than hers, much more minimalistic in its decor. A black leather couch lined one of the walls that had a coffee table in front of it, with notepads, pens, and other important looking documents spread out over its surface. A brief case laid against one of its legs. A door off to her left was slightly a jar with dim light slipping through the crevice. She could only assume it was his bedroom as there weren’t any other doors to be found. His kitchen opened up into the living room, the two places bleeding into one. A small table was neatly set for two with glasses of wine poured for each, and a fresh cut of crystal grace had been placed in a vase in the center. Tiny candles in little glass jars also adorned the table top, casting flickering shadows that danced across the table cloth and reflected off their glasses. And from the corner of his place, a record was playing. Something with an acoustic guitar and a soft, masculine voice.  It was hopelessly romantic. And she hopelessly loved it. How was she supposed to bring up topics she dreaded when she was surrounded by such magic?

He pulled out her chair with a warm smile, an offer for her sit while he served. Her stomach was doing flips. No one she dated previously had treated her this way. Pulling out chairs? Cooking dinners? Usually that was her job.  It was overwhelming different and yet comfortable simultaneously. She didn’t know what to make of it. To think this might be the first and last chance she ever had with him made her heart ache.

“How was your day?”

His question was so innocent, so domestic, so genuine in the way he voiced it that the fragile wall, the one she had spent all day amassing to keep him out until she had uncovered his considerations, came crumbling down. Caving against her will, she let out all her frustrations, including the embarrassing fall and the confrontation with her Chief.

“What did Dr. De Fer want to speak with you about?”

He placed a delectable plate of salmon and roasted vegetables over a fresh bed of salad before her, and her mouth stopped working as she stared down at it. After a beat she realized she was gaping and not speaking.

“Oh,” she said, quickly meeting his eyes. He was smirking. “She shared with me some great news, actually.”

“Which was?”

“The White Spire has invited her to apply as their Chief of Surgery.”

His eyes went wide. “That is quite an honor.”

“That’s an understatement,” she said with a laugh, waiting for him to take a seat with his own plate before picking up her knife and fork, “she was ecstatic of course. She wanted to know what my thoughts on the position were, and if given the opportunity, if I would follow her there essentially..”

“That is amazing, Anise.”

As she glanced over the table at him, she noticed the gleam in his eyes. He was proud of her. The butterflies steadily grew more restless in her breast as the tension between them heightened.

“It would be the chance of life time honestly,” she said, averting her eyes as she blushed, and took bite of the fish. It took all her self-control not to moan as it melted in her mouth.

“Gods, Solas this is incredible,” she praised, covering her mouth with her hand as she spoke with a mouthful as not to be rude.

His mouth pulled into a crooked smile. “Most Arlathan recipes are.”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “I should have guessed. How was your day by the way?”

He filled her in on the paperwork he had been attending to for Evacorp as they ate. He spent his time editing new clinical trial confidentiality and consent forms as a favor to a coworker. It sounded tedious and boring and too much like he was being being taken advantage of. Someone else’s paperwork was not something he should have had to do on his day off. His demeanor even shifted while he was talking about his work, even in his body language as he excused himself to flip the record.  It aged him in some regard, the light in his eyes diminishing and his mouth perpetually pulled into a frown as he spoke of the board of directors and how important it was to get this project done before its deadline. She wanted to bring back some life into him, wanted to chase away that gloom that seemed to perpetually cling to him, one he brought back after every flight.

“Solas,” she said interrupting him, reaching a hand across the table to lay upon his, “you don’t seem very happy in this position. Why don’t you change jobs?”

He contemplated her words, selecting his own carefully. “It’s….complicated.”

“Complicated like us?”

The words left her before she could censor them, and the tension that had been simmering between them spiked. She had meant it as a lighthearted joke, an easy way to segue into what needed to be brought up… but his reaction told her he did not take it that way.

He withdrew his hand from hers and stood abruptly, collecting the things at his place and hers. “It’s difficult to explain,” he said quietly, before walking back into the kitchen to scrape their plates.

She followed, taking the napkin off her lap and tossing it into the trash on her way.

“Solas,” said apologetically, tugging gently on his elbow to get his attention, “please, tell me. Let me in.”

This was it. The moment she had been worrying about all fucking day.

“Anise, getting to know you and spend time with you has been wonderful.” He set the dishes in the sink. “The way I feel about you, I have not felt in years,” his his lips twitched into a sad smile, “You are more than I deserve.” He raised his hand as if to touch her cheek, but then thought better of it and retracted at the last second.

His words flooded her heart, filling it with such pressure she feared she might burst. Her fingers curled tighter around his arm as her heart rate sped up. “But?”

“But,” he echoed, peeling away her grip. He stared down where he held her hand, lips pursed and brows knotted. The silence cut her like scalpel, incision digging too deep. And then a new thought came to her. One that morphed all her earlier fears into one.

“But you don’t want to have to choose between your job and a relationship.” Her voice sounded very small as it left her. “Getting physical in our relationship more seriously would only make it that much more difficult to end.”

He held her gaze. “My job would be an obstacle in the relationship, as much as yours would. We’ve managed to live around them but eventually… we’d want something more stable, consistent. It would be something we could face together if…. I digress.” He shook his head and released her hand, tucking his own behind his back. “That is not my reason for my hesitancy. You deserve someone closer to your own age. To share in the experiences that come with being young, not someone jaded by time... ” he trailed off.

Her mind raced. His age? Sure, he was older...but what difference did that make when she was approaching thirty herself?

“I don’t understand..?”

“Anise,” he shifted his weight, “I am twelve years older than you. I have little to offer you that hasn’t been spoiled already. I am afraid it will bother you. I don’t want to start something and progress further if you’ll regret being with--”

She pressed a finger to his lips. His eyes widened in surprise.

He thinks he’s damaged...

“Solas, ask me how I feel about your age.”

“Anise, I--”

“Ask me how I feel.”

He closed his eyes with a sigh and leaned into her touch. “How do you feel… about my age?”

“It does not bother me in the slightest,” she said reassuringly, taking a small step closer to him, “In fact, I… I find it charming.” She felt the blood rush to her face at her confession. Now reflecting on the gap...she realized she liked it… found it attractive even. She dropped her hand and her gaze. “For once, I actually feel comfortable enough to let someone take care of me, I’m so used to being the responsible one. And maybe it is because you’ve had more time to figure out what you want in a relationship that makes you better at it, or at least to me…”

Two fingers pressed against her chin, making her tilt her head up at him. What she saw in his searching eyes made her heart burst, sending a cascade of fire through her veins.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” she matched his low whisper, “I’ve already made my decision. I’m in this, fully.” She leaned into him, running a hand up his chest. “I’m here, I’m ready. I’m willing. If you are…”

He cupped her face. “I am.”

They stood transfixed in that moment, their decision made and hanging in the silence between them.

“Then prove it.” Anise swallowed. “Kiss me.”

All the pent up frustration and tension she had rattling inside her melted away once his lips touched her own. It was gentle, questioning. He lingered, unwilling to break it but not pressing forward. She could tell by the way he held his body he was holding back.  

“Like you mean it,” she breathed against his skin.

At that, he pulled away slightly. His grip on her chin forced her to look up into his smoldering, heavy lidded gaze. His brow arched as he stepped forward, making her step back. A whole new sensation overwhelmed her senses, a liquid kind of heat that spilled down her spine, and pooling lower still in her belly. She suddenly felt too hot, as is she were on fire but not quite ablaze. The tips of her ears burned as he continued to look at her that way. A dull ache began to throb between her thighs as his other hand glided up her hip, guiding her back further still. Her back hit the counter and she breathed in sharply. He chose that moment to advance, surging down and claiming her like he did on the night of Wintersend. His hand slipped around her thigh, hitching it around his hip to lift her up onto the edge of the counter’s surface. She took in all of him, breathed him in as she parted her lips to run her tongue along the seam of his mouth, diving in when he let her pass. Her fingers curling into the sweater she knit as he deepened their kiss.

A whimper escaped when his mouth broke their rhythm and left hers to explore, as did his hands. His breath spilled over the exposed expanse of her throat, hot and heavy leaving searing wet kisses on every inch he could find as he dragged his hands up her thighs, pushing up the fabric of her skirt. Fingertips danced over the soft skin of her legs spreading them slowly before they shifted downwards to caress her inner thigh She didn’t even try to stifle the shudder it coaxed.

Her stomach clenched, as did the rest of her body, as his fingers reached the barrier of damp lace that was her underwear.

“If this,” he traced the edge of her thong before hooking his index finger through it, “is something you want, I will give it willingly.”

“Yes. ” The word tumbled from her lips in a rush as she gripped his shoulder.

He chuckled so softly that she felt it vibrate against her more than she actually heard it.

“I do believe you owe me a pair for how many your kitten has taken from me.”

She gasped as he pulled,sliding the pair she was wearing down her legs, off her knees and let them fall past her ankles.

“I’ll collect my prize later,” he murmured against her cheek, pressing insistent kisses along her jaw, “come with me.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist and slid her arms around his neck as he picked her up. She felt the thong fall of her foot onto the kitchen floor, but she immediately let it slip from her mind as she had more, pressing, things to focus on. Such as the size of the welcomed hardness she felt against her as she clung to him.

Creators, she was going to ache tomorrow.

He led her to the bedroom, eyes locked on her. She couldn’t break his hold, it completely entranced her. How he managed to seize her so wholly with a simple stare was beyond her. And honestly she couldn’t care how easy she fell prey to him at this point. This confidence of his, this intimate side of him, was incredibly sexy and it had been oh so worth the wait.

She shed him of the wintersend gift once they reached his bed, tossing the sweater somewhere out of reach, followed by the undershirt he had donned beneath it so she could finally drink in the sight of him, bare chested before her. His gaze lost a fraction of its intensity the longer she stared, hands ghosting across the surface of his body without actually touching him. He was in good shape, no doubt about that, but he had softer lines whereas a younger man might have been more defined. She found it so much more overwhelming attractive. She wanted to trace every dip, indentation, and crease with the tip of her tongue..

It dawned her there was no reason for her not to.

Tuckin her legs beneath her to kneel, she reached for him and splayed her fingers across his torso. She leaned in, kissing each freckle she saw dotted on his skin, tongue gliding across the surface of his abdomen, tracing grooves she found that had been softened with age. His breath hitched as she reached his navel and her fingers found the button, and zipper of his slacks.

If he was allowed to tease her...

His pants hit the floor.

“Your underwear looks so much better with you filling them out,” she murmured, lips pressed  lightly over the swell in his briefs and laid a chaste kiss there. His fingers twisted in her hair reflexively.

“Ani--”

Her name turned into moan as she tugged the fabric down, exposing him fully. She wasted no time dragging her tongue along the length of his cock from base to tip before taking him entirely into her mouth. It wasn’t long after she her mouth and hand had settled into a steady rhythm that his hips began to buck in tandem, and a small curse of praise fell down to her ears.  

Suddenly he was pulling her off him and being shifted up the bed, shedding the rest of her clothes as they went. His mouth collided with hers as soon as she had settled back against his pillows. They felt like clouds wrapped in silk against the bare skin of her back, drowning her in the illusion that she was floating despite the pressure of his body pressed to her. She was all too aware of the weight of his cock as it laid on her inner thigh, hard and thick. A jolt of pleasure coursed through her like live current as his fingers dove between her thighs and found her clit, working her so easily up to the point the throbbing in her core was inescapable and all consuming. And when his slender fingers slipped inside her, she let him know just how pleasurable it was, unable to refrain from being silent--or still-- any longer. When her whimpers turned into pleas, he finally withdrew from her and reached to the nightstand drawer to their left and dug through it. He found what he was looking for, and heard the crinkle of a wrapper being ripped a few seconds later. She didn’t think her heart rate could have scaled any higher, but it did. After the condom was rolled on, he coaxed her open and settled between her legs, pausing to catch her gaze, the question was written all over his face. Are you sure?

Before he could even ask, she nodded and said, “Take me.”

With an effortless movement, he thrust up and in. She made a lewd sound at the sensation of being filled so fully, the ache of being stretched in ways she hadn’t in so long. He was gentle at first, the rock of his hips slow and measured as he pulled out watching her reaction. Each thrust forward carefully pressed. It was a tender thing, really, what was transpiring between them. One of his hands slid into hers and she clasped their fingers together just above her head in the sheets. The other found a home cupping her cheek. His face was so expressive, no longer held back by a rigid composure she was sure he kept up for appearances. She wanted to trace the emotion she found there with a finger tip, but that would mean relinquishing her grip on his shoulder and she wasn’t about to let go of him, not now, not ever.

The gradual, intimate pace changed when she started canting her hips into his rhythm. She still ached but it had grown into a satisfying one. An ache she realized she wanted--no, needed--more of. His thumb caressed her lower lip as he grinded into her. She met each vigorous thrust with a subtle roll of her hips, angling him deeper to hit that one spot…

She gasped when he did, ragged and high pitched as she arched into him. With one simple movement he had managed to make the muscles in her core pull taut. The sensation causing her nails to dig into the blades of his shoulders. His thrusts faltered at her exclamation.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she said in a breathless moan, freeing their entwined hands to grip his hip, to coax him further. Harder.

The pace they set after could only be described as desperate, her body writhed under his relentless devotion, coiling tighter and tighter. Each of his thrusts fell faster, rougher, deeper until it became all too much. What had started as a groan at the back of his throat erupted into a harsh cry as he came, crashing into her. The last few erratic rolls of his hips coupled with the sound of his climax and the deft fingers that suddenly caressed her clit finished her off, setting her free to ride several tidal waves of ecstasy.

They collapsed in a blissful heap, limbs entangled and chests heaving, neither making an effort to move for several minutes. She curled her fingers around the base of his neck and nuzzled her nose long his jawline, savoring the way the rapid beat of his heart pulsed in time with hers. He hummed something against her forehead, elven she thought, too dazed and thoroughly fucked to actually comprehend anything at this point. Chaste kisses were being placed along the crown her head, her temples, and eventually down the bridge of her nose.

She gazed up at him through half-lidded eyes and smiled up lazily at him. “You know,” she said quietly, “for a brief time I was a little nervous that when you mentioned being old-fashioned…” she trailed off heat crept down the back of her neck, suddenly embarrassed at her assumption.

“That I would be opposed to sex?” The question was laced with mirth that reflected in his eyes as he pulled himself up to gaze down at her. The soft laugh that escaped him turned into snort, and something in her twisted pleasantly at the sound. “I’m not that old fashioned.”

The flat look she was trying to give him was ruined by the smile that broke across her mouth. “Solas, you haven’t let me pay for any of the dates we’ve gone on, you open car doors for me, you--”

Her words were swallowed up by another kiss, and the subsequent giggle too. She could feel him smiling through the motion and it tugged at her heart in all the right ways. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he sat up, taking her with him.

“You are going to have to let me  indulge you everyone once in a while,” he murmured against her mouth, “please.”

“I’ll take it into... consideration,” she teased, nipping at his lower lip.

At that, he chuckled exasperatedly and shook his head. “You would.”

[buttsonthebeach]

prompt: solas (and ellana, if you don't want to set this in the sad au) holding his first grandchild

AT LAST. Sorry this one took so long. From the Awakened/sad AU.

Pairing: Past Solavellan, Ashara Lavellan x Laurence Marchand, Saeris Lavellan x Vianne

Rating: General, I think? Does include mentions of childbirth but they are literally just mentions. Nothing specific. Very brief allusions to miscarriages but all is well.

***

Solas knew it was inevitable, of course, but it didn’t stop the little skip in his heart when Ashara told him that she was pregnant.

“At least two months, I think. I can’t believe it happened so fast. We’d barely started trying. I wouldn’t be able to believe it if I wasn’t throwing up once every hour. Mamae was like that, wasn’t she?”

Like that, the years melted away, and he was standing in the Fade across from Ellana, her gray eyes wide with nervousness. I’m not sick. I’m not poisoned. I’m with child. And now that child stood before him in the Fade, with the same nervous look and the same news.

“Yes, she was. She thought she was dying.”

“And she almost caused a war between Orlais and Ferelden.” Ashara recited the words with ease and a smile. “And when she was pregnant with Saeris, I kept crying because she couldn’t play with me when she was so sick.”

“Indeed. I am sorry you have been so sick, too.” It occurred to him suddenly that he was talking to her like she was an acquaintance and not his daughter. Pregnant. Ashara was pregnant. She’d been married for a year - she was nearing thirty-five - it was by all rights a joyous thing, and yet he could not wrap his mind around it. He would be a grandfather.

“I am very happy for you, da’vhenan,” he said finally. “I am sure Laurence is thrilled too.”

“He is. He already calls the baby mon petit choux. My little bun.”

Ashara’s Orlesian was improving. She’d lived in Orlais for years now, of course. Been with Laurence for years. He liked Laurence. He was happy for Ashara, for her happiness after so much sadness. But several things were hitting him at once now - that his grandchild would grow up in Orlais, far from the country he and Ellana worked so hard to forge - his grandchild would be human - and Ellana would never hold them.

“Papae? Are you alright?”

He steeled himself. What nonsense, to feel only these things. He was happy.

“I am more than alright. It’s simply - difficult to imagine. You becoming a mother.”

“Better get used to it,” she teased. “And better get used to being called Babaela.”

It was just the way Ellana teased him a lifetime ago, her stomach round and churning with new life. Better get used to being called Papae.

Ashara made it through those dodgy first three months and the reality began to settle in, even though she was far away in Val Royeaux. Saeris read up on human-elf pregnancies and while she blithely quoted several statistics about miscarriages and difficult labors that made both he and Vianne put down their forks in alarm at their weekly dinner, she was quite confident that Ashara would be fine.

“She’s healthy and strong and living in good conditions. Not like a woman in an alienage who was impregnated and abandoned. And I’ll be there when she delivers, naturally. I’ll make sure they’re both safe.”

Saeris had grown into an incredibly capable spirit healer. Solas didn’t doubt that she could bring her sister’s life back from the brink of death. The thought of her having to do so still knotted his stomach up.

The three of them traveled to southern Orlais for First Day to spend the holiday with the Marchands, though Solas was only really going to see Ashara (and Laurence, he supposed, who had grown on him, one easygoing smile at a time). And for all that he’d spent five months fully aware that she was pregnant, it still stunned him when they entered the Marchand house and saw her standing in the doorway, her hands folded around the swell of her stomach.

Saeris and Vianne got in their hugs first, their hands immediately diving to replace Ashara’s and feel the roundness of her belly. Ashara had to swat Saeris’s hands away when she started to bring up the glow of her magic, determined to begin examining both mother and child.

Ashara is going to be a mother.

“Let me at least say hello to Papae first,” Ashara said, moving from her sister and towards him, her arms outstretched. He was close enough to see now that she looked exhausted, but happy.

“Aneth ara, Papae,” she said, squeezing him tight.

“Aneth ara, Ashara.”

Laurence was grinning ear to ear, of course, his hand resting on the rise of Ashara’s stomach every chance he got. He spoke at length about his plans to make a whole host of cakes when the baby was born, with intricate pink decorations if it was a girl, and blue ones if it was a boy. He would give them away to anyone who wanted them, and then he would close the patisserie for at least a week, so he could spend as much time as possible with his wife and newborn child.

There was much discussion of names at the dinner table. It made Solas feel tense in his neck and shoulders. Of course every suggestion was Orlesian, of course he and Saeris and Vianne and Ashara were outnumbered, and there was nothing he could say or do about it.

“If it’s a girl, my favorite name is Helaine,” Ashara said at last. She caught his eye. “It’s the closest Orlesian has to Ellana.”

He relaxed. He pictured the sight of her smile. The sound of her laugh. He remembered the way she would lean against him at the end of a long dinner party, a silent reminder that they were connected, no matter what else was going on around them.

“She would have hated that,” Solas said, softly. “She would have told you that her grandchild deserved their own name, not a legacy.”

Across the table, Saeris smiled. Vianne took her hand. The Marchands were suddenly quiet.

“She never wanted honor for all the things she did. But I want to honor her.”

A wonderful sentiment, the table agreed. The mood was more somber now. Ashara put on her brightest smile and suggested a game of bridge. Solas watched the way she gathered them and coordinated their efforts - clearing the table, preparing the cards, choosing partners. It was what Ellana was so good at. Seeing the way people fit together. Seeing what they needed. Making them happy. When there was a quiet moment, he spoke to her.

“You bring her honor with the life you have built, Ashara. I hope you never doubt that.”

Ashara squeezed his arm.

“I don’t anymore.”

*

He didn’t see her again until she was nearly due, when he and Saeris and Vianne made the trip all the way to Val Royeaux. She was huge now. She kept bracing her lower back and taking deep breaths when she had a chance as they got settled.

“Are you sure you aren’t in labor?” Saeris asked at once. “Some women feel it more in their backs.”

“No. Yes? I don’t know. You’re the healer. You tell me.”

Saeris’s hands glowed. “Ah. No.”

“Excellent. I’m just very, very uncomfortable, as usual. Wonderful.”

For the first time, Solas saw Laurence looking worried and withdrawn. He didn’t say much as they settled into the guest room, then made his excuses and said he needed to go check on something downstairs in the patisserie. When Solas ventured down, Laurence was kneading dough with steady, even hands and a wrinkled brow.

“Everything fine upstairs?” he asked without looking up.

“Yes.” He hesitated, then chose to dive in. The man was his son-in-law. Soon to be the father of his grandchild. “Is everything fine down here?”

Laurence snorted. “With the pastries or with me?”

“Either, though I will admit I was more concerned about you.”

“Ah. It is - merde. How do you say it? I am just worried for Ashara, is all. She is very anxious. I have not seen her like this in years.”

“It can be a very difficult time for mother and father alike, these last few days.” He remembered vividly his own racing heart, his own interrupted sleep, when they were expecting Ashara. The rash decisions he’d made. “It is natural for her to be anxious. And for you, as well.”

“I am. Anxious. I thought there would be more - excitement but I hate how uncomfortable she is, and I hate the thought of seeing her in so much pain when the child does come…” Laurence shook his head. He’d just finished shaping the loaf of bread and now, at last, he looked up. “How did you manage it?”

Not always well was his first response. He pushed that one down. He thought back to the two different bloody, frightening, beautiful days when Ellana gave him a child.

“I held her hand. I reminded her how much I loved and believed in her. I reminded myself to breathe. Truly though - I do not think of those moments much. I think of when I got to see her hold our daughters for the first time. Of when I held them. That part will make you forget everything else. Both you and her.”

Laurence had cut four slashes in the top of the loaf while Solas spoke, and now he dusted it with flour. He had a half smile on his face.

“I hope so. I pray so, each day. The Maker and his Bride will watch over them both.”

Solas inclined his head, searching for a charitable answer. “If you believe so.”

Laurence covered the loaf once more and then, looked up, cocking his head.

“Did Ellana ever hit you when she was in labor? My sister Odile gave her husband a bruise when she was in labor with her second, she hit him so hard.”

A barking laugh escaped Solas at the thought. “Ah - no. She did not. She swore a good deal. Only once at me.”

“Bien. I will hope that Ashara is the same. Thank you, Solas. For coming to see how I was doing.”

“De rien.”

“Hah! We’ll make an Orlesian of you yet.”

Ashara was in a better mood by dinner, but he could still see the nerves simmering under the surface. He hoped, as Laurence did, that everything went well. That her anxieties were for nothing.

The longer they were in Orlais the more the excitement built, at least for the rest of them. A week had gone by. Laurence’s mother and father and sister had arrived (his younger brother and his brother and sister-in-law stayed behind to mind their own broods). It was surely any day now. Ashara was increasingly uncomfortable, increasingly irritated with the squirming person inside her, increasingly nervous. Saeris assured her sister that things were moving along as well as they could. Laurence’s mother Babette and sister Odile insisted on several (increasingly explicit) Orlesian folk remedies to speed the process along.

Solas remembered Ellana in those final days carrying Ashara. It happened so suddenly with Saeris, poor thing - but with their eldest they’d had this watchful, worried, excited time. He cursed himself all over again for the ways he’d spoiled it with his own fear, with the orb, with his lies. Then he imagined her sitting there at the table with them, laughing at Babette and Odile’s bawdy suggestions and adding her own. He imagined her fussing over the nursery with Ashara. He missed her terribly. He was angry, suddenly, at the unfairness of the world. That she brought these two beautiful girls into the world and did not live to see them happy and grown and sitting at the table with the families they’d made - Saeris and Vianne, Ashara and Laurence. He watched his grandchild move in Ashara and wondered if it would be a girl, if they would call her Helaine, if she would have Ellana’s gray eyes or red hair or the shape of her nose or her jaw. If the world would be more fair to her.

Ashara’s water broke the day after that, and then that even longer, stranger waiting period began. She paced and groaned and they took their turns distracting her as best they could, until finally the midwives sequestered her in the room upstairs and shooed everyone but Laurence and Saeris away.

“I suppose we will be grandfathers when they return, eh? A little brandy, for you?” Laurence’s father Maurice offered.

“No, thank you.” Solas’s senses were still straining, catching the occasional cry of agony that threatened to tear his heart in half. He could just feel the soothing flow of Saeris’s magic now and then. He wanted to be alert. He wanted to be ready for that moment when - when -

It took hours and hours and hours of course, and the midwife’s assistant came and went twice for fresh water, and Maurice was fast asleep by then, but eventually the pained sounds stopped, and eventually there was a high, thin wailing that pierced all of their ears. Vianne was the one who grabbed his arm and grinned.

“I believe I’m an aunt,” she said with a hopeful smile.

“I believe I’m a grandfather,” he said, though his voice didn’t sound like his own.

They waited a while, breathless at that point, giving the midwives and the new parents the time they needed. Then Saeris came down, tired and smiling.

“Come on,” she said. “Two at a time, I think, so we don’t crowd. There’s someone Ashara and Laurence would like you all to meet.”

Solas let Vianne and Odile and Babette and Maurice all go before him. Then, when they’d returned, he made his way up the stairs.

Ashara’s smile was tentative and proud and she looked pale and tired when he approached her. Both she and Laurence had the tracks of tears on their faces.

“Papae,” she said. “You have a grandson. Adrien Varnehn Marchand.”

It was never wise to put too much stock in the appearance of newborn babies, but his first impression when he sat at her side and looked down at the scrunched, new face was that there was nothing of Ellana in him. He had a dusky skin tone, somewhere close to Ashara’s own, and dark eyes, and a few wisps of blondish hair like his father. He regarded Solas with a frank, unamused countenance, and Solas felt his heart fill up and overflow as he reached out to trace one chubby cheek, one perfect, curled, round ear.

“Andaran atishan, da’vhenan,” he said, just as Ellana had more than three decades before to a little girl who held his entire heart in both her perfect hands. “He is lovely. And you are well?” he didn’t hide the rasp in his voice.

Ashara nodded quickly. There were fresh tears in her eyes. Laurence squeezed her shoulder, but his eyes were on his son.

“I wish Mamae was here,” Ashara managed at last. She held the baby closer, bent down and rubbed her nose on his cheek. “I wish -”

“She is,” Solas said. “She is. Can I -?”

He held out his hands and cradled Adrien close. His grandson. Another piece of the family he never thought he would had. Everything else was secondary.

They sat together, enraptured by new life, by a world that Ellana had left her mark on forever, a world as real and perfect as the tiny person he held.

[theladydreadwolf]

Warmth (A Solavellan Fic)

[For the lovely @lavilsa as a belated birthday gift. Happy belated birthday. <3]

Cold. That was just one of the words to describe the vast snowy land that was Emprise Du Lion. Miera and her companions seemed to have been trekking through the thick snow for what felt like days. The party offered their aid to the devestated town of Sahrnia. There was so much to be done.

They turned their focus on capturing Suledin Keep. It was a large enough structure to maintain a foothold in the area. It would be vital to their mission, but yet it was a lengthy trek through the treacherous environment of Red Lyrium and groups of Red Templars. From sealing Rifts to taking back small camps, the group grew weary.

The cold and exhaustion were setting in. A shiver wracked Miera's body. The frosty air bit at her exposed flesh. She could feel her hands and feet steadily beginning to numb from the cold. She pulled her cloak tighter as she continued walking. Miera was very determined to cover as much ground as she possibly could for the sun was beginning to set.

______________________________________

Dorian groaned loudly. "Fasta vass! It is bloody cold!" He hugged himself as he walked. He glanced over at the Iron Bull, who not in the least seemed to be bothered by the chill. "How can you be trekking around in weather like this wearing barely nothing?" He exclaimed, teeth chattering slightly. The Iron Bull bellowed out a deep laugh. "Qunari are warm natured. We don't get cold easily." All Dorian could do is roll his eyes.

Miera laughed softly at the exchange between her friends. She could tell the exhaustion was setting in. Solas was being unnaturally quiet, Dorian was quite irritable, and Bull wasn't making as much lewd commentary as usual. She decided it would be best to stop and make camp for the night. "I think it would be a good time to set up camp. We are clearly cold and exhausted."

Everyone was in agreement and began to unpack the essentials for setting up camp. It didn't take them long. The group of four were quite eager to settle down by a nice fire with a hot meal before retiring to their bedrolls. The party worked together to set up camp and finally got dinner started.

________________________________

Miera and her companions sat closely around the fire as they enjoyed their much needed meal. Dorian glanced up at the starry night sky, wrapping his cloak around him tightly. "By the Maker...I will be so glad when we finally leave this awful place. I can barely feel my toes or anything else for that matter." The Iron Bull couldn't resist but lean in closely. "I can think of a way to warm you up." Dorian smacked his shoulder and huffed. "Shut it. You always have your mind elsewhere."

Bull simply laughed. "Well you know where to find me." The qunari stood up and glanced over at Miera and Solas. "See you in the morning, boss. Solas." He nodded his head to the unusually silent apostate."Goodnight, Iron Bull." Miera bid the qunari goodnight as well before glancing over at Solas. Dorian soon followed after the Iron Bull, leaving the two elves alone by the fire.

At that moment a slight breeze blew through their small camp causing Miera to pull her cloak even tighter around her. Her shoulders trembled slightly. Without a word, Solas wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. She was caught by surprise. Her clear blue eyes glanced up at him curiously. "Vhenan....You have been unusually quiet today. Is everything alright?" She spoke softly.

Solas gazed at her, expression softening when he could see the concern she had for him. "It's been a long day, Vhenan. I'm quite exhausted. No need to be concerned." He used his other hand to brush the blonde locks from her face, tucking them gently behind her pointed ear. She gave him a small smile before laying her head upon his shoulder.

Solas held her tightly as if he was protecting her from the world around them. He hated omitting the truth from her. It would be so easy to tell her everything. He had much on his mind today. They were getting close to the end. After they returned from Emprise Du Lion, it wouldn't be long before they readied their troop for the Arbor Wilds.

His mind had been plagued with thoughts of telling her the whole truth about himself. The what ifs and the what nots. Would she accept him? Would she call him a traitor and push him away? He closed his eyes and tightened his arms around her. He didn't want to lose her, but in the back of his mind he knew he may have to let her go.

________________________________

Moments passed between the two elves before Miera broke the comfortable silence. "Solas...." She peered up at him once more. He returned her gaze, giving her a small smile. "Yes?" He answered with such tenderness. "We should get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow." Miera took his hand within her own, intertwining their fingers.

Solas hummed in response, giving her hand a light squeeze. "Indeed." He stood, gently pulling her along with him. He waved his hand towards the fire and used his mana to dwindle it to nothing but a small flame. She tugged his hand gently to lead him towards the tent.

When the pair got inside, they dressed down to simple tunics and leggings and pushed their bedrolls together. The two elves soon settled into their bedroll under a thick fur blanket, tangling themselves within each other's arms. They laid there facing one another. Solas reached out to caress her cheek lovingly. "Ar lath ma. Never forget that." His voice was barely a whisper.

Miera leaned into his touch, turning her head to lightly kiss his palm. "Ar lath ma." She repeated. Solas leaned in to capture her lips in a loving chaste kiss. At that moment, it seemed like nothing else mattered in the world, but them. They lost themselves in one another's kiss. Solas slowly pulled away to place a soft peck upon her forehead before pressing his own against hers.

They felt so warm and content within each other's embrace. It didn't take long for the exhaustion to consume them. "On nydha, ma vhenan." Solas murmured softly before placing one last kiss to her forehead. "On nydha, ma lath." Miera could feel her eyelids grow heavy. The pair soon drifted into the Fade wrapped in each other's arms.

[roguelioness]

Wow, I love your poetry prompts! #1 for Solavellan! For DWC

Thank you for the prompt [and the compliment!] @katalyna-rose! [I can’t seem to tag you for some reason :/]

For @dadrunkwriting!

Because I could not stop for Death / He kindly stopped for me; / The carriage held but ourselves / And Immortality [Because I could not stop for Death, Emily Dickinson]

In Your Heart Shall Burn

The dungeon was dark and damp, the air stale and musty; but it kept them hidden, and for that blessing they would take every inconvenience that the rickety old building threw at them.

Neria detached her prosthetic arm in one fluid, practiced motion, and placed it onto the table. She was tired; every bone in her body was filled with a deep exhaustion, and no matter how hard she fought, how much she tried, she knew - as they all did - that they would fail.

They would not be able to stop the Dread Wolf.

But they would not stop trying.

Even now, at the final hour, she did not give up hope that he would see the good in this world. 

She had to.

Because if she didn’t… it would mean accepting that the man she loved truly was the monster her people had made him out to be.

She tried not to think of all the lives lost, the cities razed. She didn’t think of the chaos he’d orchestrated. She ignored the voice in her head that whispered about the strings he pulled, that warned her of the puppetmaster he’d become.

At the very core of her was his heart, and she knew, even as hers beat within her chest, that he was good, that he was just misguided and desperate, the poor wolf who sullied his hands with blood and his name with curses.

“Rough day, huh?” Dagna asked as she examined the artificial limb.

“Yes,” Neria replied.

“Any good news?”

She shrugged. “We know where his main base is, but we lost Brynnlaw.”

Dagna was matter-of-fact. “Knew it was just a matter of time. We’re spread too thin.”

Neria knew what the dwarf meant was there are too few of us now.

“Anyway,” she continued, “we leave at dawn. Morrigan’s discovered that there’s an eluvian nearby. We can use hers to get there. Hopefully,” she added.

The arcanist snorted. “Isn’t it a little too late for hope?”

“It’s all we have,” she replied grimly.

Dagna fiddled with the limb, then handed it back to the once-Inquisitor. “I used the last of the lyrium,” she stated. “It should have enough firepower for what you want.”

She picked up the prosthetic, feeling its weight in her hand. It seemed heavier than usual, as though it carried the weight of the world within it.

Which, in a way, it did.

With a sigh, she re-attached it to her elbow, flexing her arm to test the mobility. The lyrium glowed blue along the runes carefully engraved along the length of it. “Thanks, Dagna,” she said. “Listen, about tomorrow…”

“I’ll make my way to Orzammar,” the dwarf replied stoically. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Right. Good. Just…” she hesitated. “Be careful, okay?”

The arcanist’s features softened. “And you too, Neria.”

She didn’t want to sully the moment with goodbyes. Not verbally, anyway. For the past few weeks, they’d lived day-to-day with the knowledge that any day could be the end.

As she drifted off into sleep that night, she wondered why Solas hadn’t acted yet. He had all the advantage; he’d activated all the elven artifacts - and some of that was her fault, she thought uncomfortably - he had the ability to enter the Fade, he could’ve torn open the Veil by now.

And yet… he hadn’t.

It seemed… uncharacteristic.

What are you planning, old wolf?

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know or not.

Dawn broke with an ominous red sky, not a cloud in sight as their group made their way towards the eluvian that would lead them straight into the heart of the Dread Wolf’s camp. Their plan was madness, but they had little choice. The world was as close to insanity as it could get, and perhaps madness was the answer to healing it.

Not a word was spoken as they passed through the first mirror, and out of the second. Every step they took was measured and planned, the inhale and exhale of their breath as controlled as possible. 

She and Dorian disarmed the first set of wards, painstakingly going over the area once, twice, then again to make sure they hadn’t missed anything. The shadow of the forest eventually gave way to an open field, in the middle of which was a rather inconspicuous looking building. 

But she wasn’t fooled by its simple looks, because the magic that hung in the air was heavy and strong.

“Alright,” she whispered. “Vivienne, Dorian, Morrigan, we lead. Take down any wards you see. Varric, you and Hawke follow behind us closely; don’t let us walk into any trigger traps, will you? Cass, Blackwall, Bull, Krem - if we get into any shit, give us some cover. We need to get into that building no matter what.”

Terse nods all around.

They moved slowly, testing every inch for trouble before pressing forward, and they were close, oh so close to the door now, and she reached out a hand and touched the handle…

And a flood of magic practically exploded, blasting outwards, sending everyone reeling backwards. In seconds, they were surrounded by elves - not her kind, but his, the ancient ones who had yet lingered despite the creation of the Veil - and the weapons they held she knew they could not match, but dammit they were going to, and she was going to get inside, they needed to get the amulet to the center before they could activate it, and she wasn’t going to give in, not now…

“Vivienne, Morrigan!” she called out urgently, and they understood, barriers instantly dropping over their party, the warriors letting out aggressive cries, and now she was terrified, what if something happened to them, what if-

“Come on!” Dorian shouted over the melee, dragging her through the doorway and shutting it behind him. “We need to keep going! It’s our only hope!”

They ran down the passageway, Neria using her lyrium-charged arm to blast through the Sentinels who opposed them. With each hit, she felt the power drain away from the limb, and by the time they had made their way through the maze of corridors, passageways and stairwells up to the tower, she had run out of power completely.

But their destination was within reach now. They stood before the final door, breathing heavily, sweat coating their foreheads and dripping down the sides of their faces.

“Let’s do this,” she urged, and flung open the door.

And despaired.

By the window stood Solas, his arms clasped behind his back as he observed the battle that raged outside.

“Fen’harel,” she whispered, backing away slowly.

An unseen force pulled her into the room, another slamming the door shut. She could hear Dorian shouting from the other side, hammering wildly at the door that did not budge. Nor did she expect it to, for it was held close by ancient magicks.

Her heart thundering away in her chest, she pulled the amulet out from under her armor, wrapping her fingers tightly around it.

“I will have that, please,” he spoke, his back still turned towards her.

“You can’t,” she retorted vehemently, and began the spell that would turn back time.

Three strides, long and quick, were all it took for him to stand before her, his hand gently - but inexorably - prying her fingers apart, taking away her last hope - their last hope. She fought him, clawed at him like a wild beast, but it was a futile effort. She sank to her knees, defeated, as she watched him shatter the amulet into pieces so fine she could not tell them apart from the dust that covered the floor.

“Are you going to kill me now?” she asked in a low voice. 

She heard his footsteps get louder the closer he got to her, but she did not look up, not even when she saw his boots from the corner of her eye.

He sighed.

“By rights, I should,” he muttered brokenly. “You and your group have caused me a great deal of trouble.”

She looked up at him then, eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare do anything to them!” she hissed.

Solas shrugged. “Are you certain? Would not a quick, painless death be better than facing the raging inferno of tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her stomach a lump of sheer, unadulterated fear.

He crouched before her, his fingertips gently brushing across her face. “I would have taken down the Veil,” he said softly, his eyes locked onto hers. “But I found myself lacking one final object.”

“What?” she whispered, though she knew what the answer would be.

“You.” He stood, pulling her up with him. “And now that you have come to me, now that I have you… I can proceed.” He drew her through the eluvian well hidden away, ignoring her struggles and pleas.

The world outside would be rubble when she was finally let out of her cage.

[buttsonthebeach]

River

Pairings: Solavellan, very minor Adoribull, and OC x OC (oh! and briefly mentioned Maevaris Tilani x Unnamed Husband)

Rating: Teen? I guess? For implied shenanigans? Nothing serious.

Note: Solas and Ellana’s twenty-year-old daughter has a (human Tevene) boyfriend and Solas is being a grump about it. Ellana decides to finally confront him. Humor and some sweet feels ensue.

This is a deleted scene from the epilogue of Awakened, so it does contain some spoilers for that fic. You can just read it as random grumpy dad!Solas fluff without further context and be fine.

****

Ellana never thought that fruit preserves would play an important role in her life, but a week into their family stay at Dorian and Bull’s villa, that opinion was rapidly changing.

The problem wasn’t so much the preserves as it was Lucius and Ashara and the preserves, and the fact that the two were very obviously coming down from the same room together each morning, and the fact that whenever they passed the preserves their fingers brushed, or that sometimes Ashara tried to keep the preserves from Lucius so he would have to put his arms around her in an effort to steal them back. But it really came to a head on the morning when Ashara got some of the preserves on the corner of her mouth, and Lucius reached out and wiped them away with his thumb, and their eyes met and Ashara blushed just enough that Solas finally stood and left the table.

As he seemed tempted to every morning that week.

Dorian laughed until he had to put his cup of tea down.

So, really, the problem was between the preserves and Ashara and Lucius and Solas, and Dorian wasn’t helping, and Ellana wasn’t sure who to scold first.

“What?” Ashara kept asking. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

“What’s so funny is seeing the Dread Wolf himself, creator of the Veil, rebel god, acting like a child. Maker, his face. Do you think you two could do that again at dinner?”

Now Ashara was really blushing. Lucius wasn’t looking up from his plate.

“Hush, Dorian. Solas isn’t the only one acting like a child,” Ellana said at last, though there was little heat in her voice.

It was unseasonably warm, so they made plans to go to the nearby river later in the day when it got too hot for anything else. There was some scrambling for appropriate swimming clothes for everyone to wear - Ellana joked about swimming nude, which won her a scandalized look from her own daughter - and then it was time to go through the kitchen and see what they could pack. She found Solas in there, seated on a low bench, rewrapping the leather straps that protected his staff.

“Please tell me you aren’t planning on using that on anyone in particular,” she said.

“What?” he replied, distant.

“I take it you’re over your display at breakfast, then?”

“Display? I was simply done with my meal.”

Ellana rolled her eyes, though he didn’t look up to see it. She was holding the plate with the remains of his breakfast in her hand. If he didn’t feel like acknowledging what was going on, she didn’t feel like pressing at the moment.

“There are plans to go down to the river. Will you come?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. This has been an awful lot of socializing for you, this past week. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to spend a little quiet time alone.”

“I will be fine, vhenan.”

She set down his plate and ran her hand along his shoulder on her way to see what they could pack. The corners of his mouth lifted in response to her slight touch and he looked up at last. So he wasn’t in a completely foul mood - at least not anymore.

She managed to catch Ashara alone before they left for the river to speak to her about it.

“You know, you might save a little more of your affection for Lucius when you are alone,” she said when they were waiting for the others to be ready.

“I’m sorry,” Ashara said. She fiddled with the clothes she’d borrowed from Maevaris’s older daughter. They did sit strangely on her narrower frame. “Have we been bad? We didn’t mean to. It’s just…”

“No, da’vhenan. You haven’t done anything terribly wrong. I know that restraint is hard when you’re in those first stages of love. I only wanted to point it out to you. You might want to consider that there are other people around you who might not - appreciate the displays of affection.”

“You mean Papae,” she said flatly, her blue eyes narrowing.

“Yes.”

“He’s being ridiculous.”

“And this surprises you?”

Ashara snorted. “Not really. It’s just - we only have a few more days here, then Lucius goes back to Minrathous and we go back to Enasan. I don’t really want to spend that time worrying about what Papae thinks.”

“Fair enough. I’ll talk to him, if you’ll promise not to try and irritate him.”

“I’m never irritating,” Ashara said, lifting her chin with a comical superiority.

“Yes,” Ellana said dryly. “And I’m the queen of Antiva.”

In retrospect, Ellana might have done well to speak to Lucius, as well. She would hardly have thought it necessary. He was a kind, even-tempered young man - a good balance to Ashara’s flurries of feeling and action. He watched her with a bemused adoration as she went on about whatever thought had popped into her mind. He teased her gently when she started to take something too seriously.

He was also the one who picked Ashara up and threw her straight into the river not long after they arrived.

“What’s the matter?” He said as she walked back up the bank towards him, drenched and furious. The loose clothing she’d borrowed from Mae’s daughter was plastered to her every curve and angle now. “Didn’t you spend the entire walk here claiming it was better to go in all at once? That the shock to the body is actually healthy according to several studies conducted at the University of Orlais?”

“You -” Ashara sputtered. “That was -”

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen you speechless before, Ash,” Lucius said with a chuckle. He snuck an arm around her and pulled her closer to him. She put up only a token resistance. “Maybe I should throw you in there again.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Ashara said, pushing him back.

It led, predictably, to a bout of chasing around the waterline, and though soon they weren’t the only ones involved, when Ellana looked for Solas she saw that he had already moved further down the river from everyone, and was watching with a scowl. While Dorian and Bull lounged and Mae and her husband began setting out the food, Ellana decided to join her bond mate, and finally deal with things head on.

“All right,” Ellana said when she reached him, sitting down in the sand beside him. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?” he said.

“How irritated you are with them,” she said, nodding towards the ongoing display. Ashara and Lucius had separated from the others, even their friend Claudia. It was just the two of them now, crossing a sandbank to the other side of the river, hands loosely linked. “We’ve danced around it long enough. Just admit it. You hate that she’s found a lover. You hate that they’re running about the villa every day hand in hand stealing kisses when they think no one’s looking and that they’re clearly sleeping in the same room.”

“It is not that at all.”

He was indignant, and in denial, and there was a time that might have irritated her - his constant obstinance. There would surely be times in the future when it still would. But she had a feeling she knew what he needed now, so she simply leaned against him.

“Well then - enlighten me. What is it, exactly? Why can you barely seem to stand the sight of them?”

Solas flicked away a leaf that had fallen into his lap, harder than necessary.

“He calls her Ash. We gave her a beautiful name full of meaning and promise and he reduces it to a single mispronounced symbol that means only death and destruction in the human tongue.”

Ellana snorted, considered making a comment about human tongues, and thought better of it.

“Is that all?”

“He is intelligent enough but too quiet. He cannot possibly challenge her the way she deserves.” There was more heat in his voice now.

“And?”

“And he should not be encouraging these - displays. He is old enough to know better than to behave like this in public. And for that matter, he is too old for her.”

She had to laugh at that and look him in the eye now. “Oh, really? Remind me - did we ever figure out exactly how old you are compared to me? Even setting aside your actual age, you didn’t seem to have any issues pretending to be a man in his forties pursuing a woman in her late twenties. He’s only five years older than her.”

He did blush and press his lips together at that. It made him look younger. “That was different. You were - older. In many ways. Ashara is still a child.”

A shout drew their attention and Ellana saw that Ashara had successfully pushed Lucius into the river at last. She was bent double on the opposite shore, laughing, her dark hair still dripping around her face. And - she had to admit, it was strange to think of the daughter who climbed chairs in search of sweets to steal or begged her father to do one more little spell before bedtime now that Ashara was so tall, and now that Lucius who was taller still was coming towards her, clearly ready to scoop her back into his arms, wet clothes and all.

“She isn’t,” Ellana said. “Not really.”

Solas sighed and his face twisted back into a pained expression. He dug his feet deeper into the sand. “I cannot make myself accept that. I fear - I fear above all else that he will hurt her. Child or no, she is too young, too curious about the world and everything in it, for this to end well. I cannot begrudge him his human birth - but you know that alone will cause problems, before the end. I can only see that, when I look at them. The pain.”

Ellana looped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. After a moment, she felt the weight of his head on top of hers.

“You are allowed to worry about her,” she said. “We both are.”

Lucius had put Ashara back down by that point. Claudia crossed the sandback to join them, the youngest of Mae’s children in tow. Ashara turned to them, shading her eyes against the sun and keeping her other arm tight around Lucius’s waist. She was saying something, but Ellana couldn’t make out the words. She felt a sudden rush instead: the person she’d known from the inside first, as stray flutters and kicks and sleepless, painful nights, was whole and grown and out in the world and she was a good person who drew other good people to her, and she was loved.

“We did well, you know,” Ellana said, though it was hard to get the words out. Solas was still, and then he moved so he could wrap his arm all the way around her shoulders and kiss her forehead.

“We did.”

They sat together on the warm, coarse sand and watched their daughter across the river as she laughed and ran in the shallow water. Ashara didn’t turn to see them until some time later, and by then almost all of the tension had ebbed from Solas’s shoulders, and the smile and wave he offered her in return was genuine. By the next morning his lips were pursed again at the sight of them, swanning down the stairs arm and arm, but Ellana just shook her head at him and smiled. He did offer to show Lucius what he meant about casting barriers later that afternoon, after all - and Ellana was well versed, by now, in watching small seeds take root and grow.

[theladydreadwolf]

In Another World Chp. 2 (Solavellan Fic)

[I like to thank @bearlytolerable for her idea of having Dirthamen and Falon’Din fight over Britannia and our RP of this has also helped. Thank you, lovely.<3]

Britannia's heavenly voice filled the grand ballroom. She had lost herself within the music. As her slender body swayed, She was unaware that she had caught the attention of the twin gods: Dirthamen and Falon'Din. They cool gazes turned into a dark lust as they watched her. Some members of the Pantheon weren't above taking servants to bed.

Fen'Harel glanced over at the twins and could see them leering at the beautiful songstress. He couldn't blame them, but they had a more sinsiter purpose hidden behind their eyes. Dirthamen leaned in to whisper into Andruil's ear. The rebel narrowed his eyes. He knew the Keeper of Secrets was always deceitful and manipulative when it came to something he wanted.

The smirk that spread across Andruil's face was unsettling. Just as Britannia was beginning to start another song, Andruil stood from the table. "My dear little songbird...One of your betters desire to dance with you.", she glanced over at Dirthamen who also stood. His eyes trailed over her body hungrily and it made Britannia shudder.

She knew Andruil wasn't above loaning our her own slaves to pleasure nobility. She swallowed hard as Dirthamen sauntered onto the ballroon floor towards her. "Do not embarrass me, pet. Or your punishment will be severe.", the huntress had such glee behind those words. Falon'Din suddenly stood from the table, slapping his hands down upon the flat surface.

The god of death's outburst startled the court. Falon'Din and Dirthamen were close, but they were competitive with one another even when it came to taking lovers. "Dirthamen! You knew that I desired to dance with her first! Must you always do this at every gathering?", the other god fumed with jealousy. The Keeper of Secrets merely laughed as he glanced over at his brother, "Perhaps I'm merely better than you, brother."

Falon'Din angrily confronted his brother. Britannia stood there, watching the twin gods bicker. She was too afraid to move, not wanting to face Andruil's wrath. "I dare you to say that again.", Falon'Din narrowed his eyes at his brother. Before Dirthamen could retort, Andruil approached the brothers. "You both will not cause such a disturbance in my house.", her voice was icy as she glared at the twins.

Dirthamen and Falon'Din remained silent and parted ways to go mingle with the others in the ballroom, seeking another for company. Britannia let out a small sigh of relief. The songstress had felt disgusted by the twins' leering looks. She was thankful of their competitive natures.

________________

Fen'Harel watched the twins with amusement as he took a sip from his wine. The two could never control themselves when they desired a beautfiul woman. Seeing them both not getting their way brought a pleased grin on the wolf's face. They were like children to him.

Andruil returned to her place at the table before sitting down with a heavy sigh. "I swear those two can never be civilized at any gathering.", she rubbed her temples in irritation. Ghilan'nain tenderly placed her hand upon her lover's thigh. She gave her lover a soft small before turning her attention to Britannia, "My pet...Since your performance was most lovely, you may go mingle."

At this moment, Fen'Harel stood from his seat. The remaining members of the Pantheon turned their eyes upon the rebel. "Andruil...I wish to dance with your songstress.", he looked at the huntress with a mischievious glint in his eyes. Andruil raised an eyebrow suspiciously, "Finally indulging like the rest of us, wolf?"

Britannia's azure eyes fell upon the rebel god. He desired to dance with her? She didn't know whether to be frightened or honored. He was the beacon of freedom and the bringer of change according to the whispers of her fellow slaves. She could feel her legs beginning to quiver and her palms sweating.

The huntress inclined her head in agreement. "Very well, wolf.", she gestured her hand towards the songstress as a sign of permission. Fen'Harel gave a slight bow of his head towards Andruil before stalking towards her. Britannia took a deep breath to calm her nerves as he approached her.

_______________

Fen'Harel stood before her. She took in the image of him. He was incredibily handsome. She could feel her cheeks burning slightly. Fen'Harel was dressed in black silk with golden vines sprawling across the fabric, his hair was braided and pulled back, and his eyes were breathtakingly blueish-grey. She knew she was staring, but couldn't seem to look away.

Fen'Harel chuckled softly upon her reaction. He bowed to her and offered his hand to her, "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?" There was a collective gasp throughout the ballroom. Andruil narrowed her eyes at him. He was embarrassing the entire Pantheon by this display. Bowing to a slave was like spitting in every members face.

The wolf inside him cackled wildly. He knew what he was doing. He was a master at this game after all. Dirthamen and Falon'Din glared at him, seething hatred and jealousy in their eyes. Mythal sighed softly because she knew his behavior would have consequences. Judging by Elgar'nan's tight grip upon the arm of his chair, Mythal knew she couldn't calm his temper forever.

_______________

Britannia timidly placed her hand within his own, "Of course, my lord." She spoke softly. She felt his hand close around her own. She looked up at him and their eyes met. The young elf felt her heart racing within her chest as the rebel wrapped an arm around her waist. Britannia was both intrigued and nervous. Her body felt tense.

Fen'Harel began to guide them into the middle of the dance floor with graceful steps. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Do not fear me, lethallan. I will not harm you." She shivered slightly at his hot breath upon her ear. The fact that she called her 'kin' reassured her. He treated her as his equal and it brought a small smile on her face.

The tension left her body after hearing his words. The band played a soft, slow melody as the pair danced with such grace. As they twirled across the dance floor, the pair could feel the eyes of the entire court upon them. Fen'Harel cared nothing about how the court felt about him. The only thing on his mind was this beautiful woman in his arms.

"I intend to set you free.", he spoke lowly so no one would overhear them. Her eyes widened in surprise and opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted when he spun her with such fluidity before drawing her to him once more. "T-To set me free?", her voice shook lightly as she whispered. She feared anyone to overhear her.

"If that is what you wish. I cannot stand to see you in Andruil's chains. You deserve to be freed from your cage.", he declared softly. He never missed a beat as they danced elegantly. Her mind and heart was racing. This was her chance to be free. She had been a caged bird for Andruil long enough.

"How, my lord? Mistress Andruil sees all.", she couldn't help the fear that was in her voice. Escaping Andruil was something a slave didn't dare to do. The last time such a feat occurred, the slave's punishment was being hunted by the huntress herself. It was such a cruel and terrifying sentence.

____________

It pained Fen'Harel's heart to see his lovely creature before him terrified. He could see the fear within the blue depths of her eyes. All it did was make him more determined to set her free. Slaves like her are what kept the purpose of his rebellion alive. She would not live in terror any longer not when there's hope he can change things.

"I will send one of my agents for you late into the night. I have had agents canvassing the palace since my arrival. I know where she keeps you.", he admitted lowly into her ear. The wolf was the master of trickery and deceit after all. He had agents in these very halls and Andruil was completely unaware.

Britannia was amazed that he was able to trick the watchful huntress so easily. It pleased her to know even the great Andruil could be fooled. "When will I know when your agent comes for me, my lord?", she questioned in a hushed whisper. The rebel squeezed her hand gently as they continued dancing to the delicate tune.

"My agent will softly knock upon your door three times. They have already meddled with the lock where you will easily be able to exit the room.", he informed her as the melody was soon coming to a close. With one last fluid motion, he dipped her. Their eyes locked and it seemed like time around them stilled.

Surprised gasps and some applause filled the grand ballroom. When their dance finally ended, he drew her against his chest once more. Britannia whispered her gratitude. He gave her a small smile before leaning in to utter softly into her ear once again, "Until then, lethallan." His voice caused her to shiver, but this time not from intimidation.

They took a step back from one another, bowing slightly to each other. He took her hand and placed a small kiss upon her skin. "Ma serannas for the dance, my lady.", he spoke loudly enough for some of the others to hear. He flashed her one last smile before turning away, making his way back to the others. Britannia couldn't help, but stare after him. She would finally be free.

[roguelioness]

DWC: Blessing

Okay, I’m finally getting around to filling this prompt! @tel-abelas-mofo sent me the same one, so I’m combining both of yours @ma-sulevin :)

Solavellan, because of course it is. Neria Lavellan x Solas. Set post-Trespasser.

For @dadrunkwriting

The Length Of His Shadow

Being in Tevinter meant constantly being on guard.

Nights like these, when they were camped out in the middle of nowhere, with not even a fire to keep them warm lest they attract... unwanted company... Neria pondered about the futility of trying to stop the Dread Wolf from his plans.

Nights like these, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he had a point. If he was successful, she - and her people - would never again have to worry about being hunted down like animals, being broken in mind and spirit and forced to serve shems in a thousand despicable ways...

And then she’d think of all the good people that walked, those like Cassandra and Cullen who worked hard to make the world a better place, those like Bull who accepted everyone regardless of their race or gender; Blackwall, who strove to redeem himself every day, and Dorian who eschewed the easy way out for a difficult path because it was the right thing to do.

Could she just give up on them so easily?

She sighed, and it was heard by Athras. “Something on your mind?” he asked, sounding amused.

“The usual,” she whispered, tilting her head back to stare up at the star-studded night sky. The moons were in their waning phase, and she could make out the many constellations - that Solas had taught her - easily. 

Her gut clenched at the thought, and misery flooded into her heart. 

Ever since he’d left her for the second time, she was constantly dogged by loneliness, no matter how many people she surrounded herself with. 

“Are you giving up?” he asked, concerned, and she knew he’d spotted the sheen of tears that she’d tried so hard to hide.

“I want to,” she whispered, hanging her head in shame. “Sometimes, I want nothing more than to go back to my clan and live out the rest of my days in blissful ignorance. What am I doing? How can I hope to match him?” The tears rolled down her face, and she sniffed. “He wants me to die, doesn’t he? Perhaps I should just give it to him, and relieve myself from the burden of trying to save the world - again - maybe that would make him happy...”

“Don’t talk like that!” Inar snapped. “Why are you giving up now, after all you’ve been through?”

“Because!” Neria exclaimed in a heated whisper. “After everything I’ve been through, don’t you think I deserve a break? I’m broken-” her voice cracked, “look at me. I’m barely a person now,” her voice lowered, breath hitching as she struggled to hold back sobs, “he took everything from me. What little innocence remained in me, he destroyed. My heart, he shattered. My arm...” she raised the stump, staring morosely at it, “well, why not give him the satisfaction of my death, too?”

“If anyone can change his mind, it is you, lethallin,” Athras reminded her softly.

“But I’m tired,” she whispered into the night air. “I didn’t ask for this...”

“You did not ask for the Anchor, or Corypheus, or becoming Inquisitor either,” Inar’s tone was blunt, much like the woman herself. “If you want a pity party, neither Athras nor I will be part of it. Mope all you want now, but we must keep moving at dawn.”

“Who made you the boss,” Neria muttered balefully.

“Go for a short walk, lethallin,” Athras encouraged her. “It might help to clear your mind.”

She sighed again. “Fine.” She rose to her feet, and walked away from their camp in the small cave towards the dense forest. 

“Do not wander too far!” Inar reminded her, and Neria rolled her eyes. As if I don’t know that, she thought to herself irritably. Really, Inar treated her like a child sometimes...

Lost in her thoughts, and despite having elven sight, she failed to see the suspicious pile of leaves that usually signified a trap. She fell into the pit, a cry ripped out from her throat, her hands clawing desperately for something to break her fall.

She screamed in agony as she landed on her leg, causing the bone to snap with a loud crack. She began to cry in pain, and fear, trying to calm her panicked mind enough to come up with a plan.

She couldn’t shout for attention; it was too risky.

She couldn’t climb her way out; her leg was too damaged for that.

She sank to the ground, despair overwhelming her. This is it, she thought. This is how I end, captured by slave hunters and sold to some blood-magic-practicing magister... “Creators,” she whimpered, bringing her good hand to her leg in an attempt to heal it. Her magic sparked softly in the darkness, her hand glowing soft green.

But she wasn’t much of a healer; she never had been. After a few attempts to repair the bone - which had gotten her nothing but more agony - she gave up and slumped back against the edge of the pit, eyes staring unseeingly at the opening of the pit.

A soft crack , so reminiscent of a foot stepping on a dry twig, caught her attention. She swallowed hard, fear clogging her throat. She dared not breathe. 

A slender silhouette peered over the edge, and fear turned to relieved excitement as she spotted the pair of glowing eyes staring down at her. She was about to call out for help when caution stilled her tongue.

In Tevinter, elves were often used as bait by slave hunters.

“Inquisitor,” a voice she’d never heard before called out, “are you all right?”

She stiffened. Who was this stranger who knew who she was, and where had he come from?

“Who are you?” she croaked.

“A friend, Inquisitor. I mean you no harm. Are you injured badly?”

“I... yes. My leg is broken, I can’t stand,” she admitted.

“Wait a moment.” The stranger vanished and returned moments later with something in his hands. “I’m letting down this rope, Inquisitor. Tie it around your waist, and I will pull you up.”

She tugged at the rope, testing its strength, before tying it firmly around her waist. “Who are you, and why are you helping me?” she asked again, curiosity getting the best of her.

He ignored her question, hauling her up slowly but steadily. When she was out of the pit, he gently examined her broken leg, his hands glowing gold as he worked his magic to heal her. When he was done, he rose, and began to walk away without a word.

“Wait!” she called out urgently. “Who are you?”

“The Wolf sends his regards, Inquisitor,” the stranger’s voice was suddenly too sharp, too clear. 

“I... Solas?” she breathed. “Is that you?”

“Fen’harel enansal, Inquisitor,” the stranger said softly, before slipping deeper into the shadowed forest.

“... fen’harel enansal,” she echoed, a smile on her lips. “Ma serannas, ma lath.”